


Love is what happens, when you're busy making other plans

by dancing_through_the_madness



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4482725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancing_through_the_madness/pseuds/dancing_through_the_madness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy hasn’t spoken to Miranda since that fateful day, but it’s six years after Paris and life is about to get a whole lot more complicated. For both of them.  (Mirandy fake relationship trope)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own them, Lauren Weisberger and 20th-century Fox do. Just thought they'd like to come out and play for a while.

When Andy Sachs switched on her cell phone and listened to a succession of early morning voice mails,

\- - “Six, you know we were dreaming about cocktails in the Caribbean, now might be a good time! If you’re still here Wednesday, drinks, usual place, and bring Jacob he’s delicious.”

\- - “Are you completely stupid? Serena wants to know what on earth you were thinking. Personally I don’t care, but I don’t suppose you could let Miranda kill you today could you? We’re going to print this week and I could really do with her in a good mood.”

\- - “Andy, this is just an early midlife crisis right? I have to go to the gallery, Doug is coming over with bagels. I’ll see you later, don’t worry, you’ll get through this.”

She had no idea what was going on but knew it must be bad.

When she heard Greg’s, “what the hell Sachs, you’re not supposed to be pushing up the sales of other newspapers! Next time give us the exclusive,” she was only marginally more enlightened and not entirely sure he was joking.

Unfortunately, the knock on her door that followed soon afterwards, did not leave her in a state of blessed oblivion for long.

As a journalist Andy had always resented the saying, “a picture tells a thousand words.” Partly, this was because finely crafted words, and the use of them to make people think, was her living. Mainly it was because she knew that a picture, or in this instance a photo, was a mere moment out of time. That in reality it only gave a glimpse of what was actually going on, and that it could be more dangerous, when taken out of context, than any number of words. People tended to accept photos and the spin put on them without question. Like the ones she was staring at now. In the Sunday edition of the New York Post. On Page Six.

Her cell rang. She looked at the name and sighing connected the call, “Hey.”

“Hey” said the subdued voice on the other end, then nervously added “um, have you seen —?”

“Yeah,” Andy interrupted.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Andy said again, then turning away from Doug, who had brought the not so glad tidings, she moved into the bedroom and shut the door firmly, “have you got someone there with you?”

“Caroline. You were right. I told her yesterday when I got back, I told her everything. Oh Andy, Mum is going to be furious, what are we going to do?”

“You are not going to panic Cassidy” Andy replied, “Your mother loves you beyond measure, you know that.”

“We haven’t heard from her yet, do you think there’s a chance she hasn’t seen them?”

Andy thought that the chance that Miranda Priestly, of all people, had not seen those photos, was slightly less than the chances of Donald Trump winning the next presidential election, after both main candidates had withdrawn and endorsed him as the better man. She was interrupted however, before she could attempt to reassure the girl.

“Um” Doug peered around the door, “sorry Andy, but you’ve got another visitor.”

She was about to ask who it was, when a voice she had only heard in her head for the last six years, said, “and you know how much being kept waiting, thrills me, Andréa.”

Her eyes bugged out, and hearing a panicked voice in her ear, she nodded and waited until Doug withdrew before she kicked the door shut again, Miranda be damned. “Calm down” she instructed, “the fact that she’s here shows how much she cares about you Cassidy, don’t worry, I will handle your mother.” Then thinking back to Emily’s request she swallowed hard, lost in her own thoughts until she heard the words “run out of town” in her ear and realized Cassidy was still speaking, “put your sister on a minute,” she interrupted.

“Hey Andy” a voice just as subdued as her sister’s answered.

“Caroline, listen, you can probably tell who just arrived. Please try to convince Cass that everything is going to be alright. I have no intention of telling your mother anything. I am merely going to reassure her that those photos are not what they look like. It will be OK, I promise, and either of you can call me anytime you need to, OK?”

“OK. Thanks Andy. Oh hang on, Cassidy wants to speak to you again.”

There was the muffled noise of a cell phone being passed from hand to hand again and then Cassidy said, “I’m sorry Andy, I never meant for any of this to happen!”

“I know you didn’t kiddo, don’t worry, everything will be fine” she replied, with more confidence than she felt, wondering vaguely why the door was still on it’s hinges, and thinking Doug must be more of a knight in shining armor than she’d realized. “OK, now I’ve really got to go talk to your mother, it’ll be OK, OK? I’ll call you when I can, in the meantime, get something to eat, get some fresh air, read a book, watch a movie, just please, enjoy your day and try not to worry.”

Hanging up she let out a long sigh, then looked at the door and swallowed hard for a second time, knowing it could not be put off any longer.

“Miranda” she said, trying to sound confident as she walked back into the main room, “how nice to see you,” she looked around, “where’s Doug?”

“If you mean the person who let me in, he thought of other places he needed to be,” the woman perched on the edge of the couch said tightly.

“I see” Andy replied, then bit the bullet, “and why are you here and not at Barnard, reassuring Cassidy that you love her, and that everything will be fine?”

Miranda removed her sunglasses, and Andy was shocked to realize she had forgotten just how piercing those eyes could be. “Do not presume to know what is best for my daughter, Andréa!”

“I don’t presume” she said, walking to the table and taking out an onion bagel from the bag that Doug had thoughtfully left, hoping Miranda could not see the slight tremor in her hand. “When in doubt, I ask. It’s my job after all.”

“Ah yes” came the hissed reply, “your job.” Andy’s fingers tightened around the knife she had just picked up, momentarily imagining other uses for it as she heard the disdain, before severing her breakfast in two with barely a thought and putting it in the toaster, “and why do you think photos of a low rent reporter from a two-bit newspaper, are gracing the rag that produces Page Six, hmm?”

Andy knew that given the perceived circumstances she had no right to take offense, so she put the coffee on the stove and shifted to the fridge, took out the milk and then rummaged around in the take out cartons for the cream cheese, trying to remain calm. “I would imagine” she began when she finally found it, “it’s because this particular low rent reporter, is friends with your daughters.” She closed the door, then popped the bagel and began spreading the cheese, her back resolutely to her guest.

“Friends?” the word was spit out and Andy was forcefully reminded that almost losing her own friends, while she was at Runway, was the thing she was most ashamed of in life. Then she wondered if Miranda had any. Andy turned towards the woman, and raising the bagel, took a bite to give her mouth something else to do, while she tried to calm her mind by trying to work out the logistics of maintaining such a rigid posture, on her dilapidated couch. She still hadn’t managed it by the time she had finished her mouthful, nor had she noticeably calmed down. “I realize that the word may be an alien concept to you Miranda, but yes, I am friends with both of your daughters.”

Miranda pursed her lips at the crass taunt, but all she said was, “and that was evidence of your — your friendship was it? Flaunting my daughter in front of —”

“Now wait just a minute! I was not, I didn’t know — dammit, you of all people know how they twist things! There is not now, and never has been, anything going on between me and Cassidy! Hell, she’s almost young enough to be my daughter!”

She was far too worked up to see the woman flinch at this statement, she did however hear the hissed, “well she isn’t is she, she’s mine, and now thanks to your irresponsible behavior, the whole world is sitting back gloating and waiting for my reaction!”

Andy was about to say that contrary to Miranda’s belief, not everything was about her, when she remembered that the paper had captioned the accompanying article, ‘Dragon Slayer woos the Whelp?’; had obviously taken great delight, in dragging up parts of the article they had done of her walking out in Paris, where she had been given said title, and the last few lines had been a hair’s breadth from libelous, in it’s assertion that her daughter might have gone rogue because of Miranda’s mothering skills. Finishing her bagel instead, Andy tried again to put herself in the other woman’s place. “I know how much you hate the girls being in the spotlight in this way Miranda,” she said trying to placate her, “and I’m sorry that they’ve managed to spin something so sordid from something so innocent, but truly, Cassidy is as mortified as you or I that this has happened. I promised her we’d sort it out, so I’m going to need you to work with me here, not against me, OK?”

“And when did you promise my daughter this?”

“Just now, that was who I was talking to when you arrived.”

“You called her?”

“No, she called me.”

“She called you?”

Andy sighed, wondering where the normally astute woman she had worked for had suddenly disappeared to, “yes Miranda.”

“She called you, not me?”

This time Andy heard the vaguely lost tone in her voice, and said gently, “Miranda, she’s scared. Scared that people are going to judge her based on two totally out of context photographs, but mainly, she’s scared that she’s let you down, that you’ll think less of her because of it. That’s why I asked why you weren’t at Barnard.”

“Of course I’d not think less of her, and no-one else’s opinion matters. Certainly not anyone who reads that rag!” Miranda replied venomously.

“Well, good” Andy said, then picked up her cell and started dialing, walking over to Miranda as she did so, “then will you please tell her that, because I have a feeling that despite my advice to go enjoy their day, there are two very worried girls waiting for this call.”

“Caroline too?”

“They’ve never been good at keeping things from each other, as I’m sure you know. Besides, I did tell you, I really am friends with both of them.”

“How long?”

“Sorry?”

“How long have you and they been friends?”

“Oh, um —” then the phone connected, “Hey kiddo, your mom wants to speak to you.” She handed over the phone and then went back to the stove and busied herself heating milk.

“Darling?” Miranda said tentatively, ‘bobbsie’ not having been appreciated for a few years now. “Yes Andréa is fine — of course I’m not going to — no I’m not going to ruin her either — Cassidy will you please stop worrying about Andréa!” Andy’s mouth twitched as she clamped her lips together in an attempt not to laugh out loud. “No, no, I will talk to her and we will sort it all out. Now you mustn’t worry — of course I still love you. Nothing you could do, could stop me doing that — now you’re being ridiculous — well anyone silly enough to believe them, will think you both have extremely good taste. Both you and Caroline have turned into very attractive young ladies — yes I think Andréa is beautiful too — Cassidy, are you, I mean, not Andréa obviously, but do you have something to tell me? — You don’t? Well I hope you both know that you can tell me anything, mummy will always listen — Cassidy, I always try to make time for the two of you, you know that — yes well sometimes I am very busy but — Cassidy you know —”

Not liking the way this was going, Andy removed the phone from Miranda’s hand, swiftly replacing it with a mug of coffee instead. Placing it against her ear, she listened for a moment before saying “Cassidy Ann Priestly, that is no way to speak to your mother — I don’t care — rubbish. You know very well that she cares about the two of you more than anyone and anything else in this world — well she has a very important job that takes up a lot of her time. Remember when Liz Neumark came to speak to your class? It’s not easy being head of any company, and that’s small fry compared to the size of Elias-Clarke. Just think how many people rely on your mother for their jobs! But she has always, always, made time for the two of you. Believe me, she has sent assistants to the point of madness and beyond, trying to get back to you, trying to change her schedule so that she could be there for you, trying to make you happy! Because that’s what she wants Cassidy, more than anything else, for you and Caroline to be happy — I don’t think it’s me you should be saying that to, do you? Wait a minute, I’ll put her back on.”

Turning back to the woman seated on the couch, she saw Miranda had both hands wrapped around the mug and was again, looking a little lost. She knelt down and put her free hand on Miranda’s knee and the woman looked up startled, “She wants to speak to you again” she said gently, holding out the phone.

Miranda took it,“Cassidy?” she said almost in a whisper, “It’s alright darling, I know it must seem sometimes that I don’t care, but you and Caroline are everything to me — yes darling — yes darling — don’t worry, Andréa and I will sort everything out — yes, we’ll talk to you later — I love you too Cassidy, and Caroline, so very much — yes darling, kisses to you both.” Handing back the cell, she sipped at the coffee; appreciating the fact that it was scorching hot. Andréa had always managed that, and it was surprising how few people could get even such a simple request right.

“So?” Andy asked, after waiting in vain for more than a few minutes for the other woman to break the silence, “how do you suggest we go about removing Cassidy from the Paparazzi’s spotlight?”

Miranda looked up and gazed at her as if she’d been so deep in thought, she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. “The answer is obvious Andréa” she finally replied, “we just give that rag something even juicier to talk about.”

Andy frowned, she really, really, didn’t like the sound of that. “Well, I guess I could find somewhere to get photographed with Doug,” she finally suggested.

Miranda took another sip of coffee before asking, “and is he your significant other?”

“No but —”

“Do you currently have a significant other?”

“Well, no, not at the —”

“So the only thing that would make it juicier than the story they already have, is that you would apparently be cheating on my daughter.”

“I guess so, but Miranda —”

She held up a hand, “no, no, that wasn’t a question, I will not have my daughter cheated upon.”

“Miranda, there is no relationship! I won’t actually be cheating on her!”

“You will be according to Page Six and really Andréa, I think you might spare her that, hmm?”

Andy was stunned into silence by the twisted logic and it was several minutes, another half bagel, and brief contemplation of going back to bed, in the hope that when she woke up again it would all have been a bad dream, before she said, “Well, they seem to like you, can’t you be photographed with someone?”

She noticed that the compressed lips were back, and through them were forced the words, “Andréa, you’re missing the point.”

Andy closed her eyes briefly, wondering how the day had got so surreal, then she fixed her gaze on the woman sitting in front of her and gave in, “OK, so what exactly did you have in mind?”

Miranda put her mug on a side table and studied her companion in silence for a few moments, before scowling over at the paper and saying, “Obviously we need to cast that relationship, and therefore those photographs, in a different light.”

“Well the one that it actually is would be nice,” Andy agreed.

“Andréa, do you get the Post delivered?”

“Of course not! I wouldn’t have that poor excuse for journalism in the apartment!”

“And yet there it sits” came the calm reply, “why is that?”

“Because Doug brought it,” Andy said frowning.

“And did he bring it because he knew that you would find it amusing? Because he knew it to be false and you could laugh at it together? Did any of your friends, your work colleagues, actually think to dispute the evidence in front of their eyes?”

Andy rubbed the back of her neck absently with one hand as she looked away and thought back to her messages, and didn’t that just suck. Finally she said, “no. Apparently, and I really have no idea why, they all believed it.”

Miranda nodded knowingly, “if the people who know you believe it Andréa, then so will everyone else, and the more you deny it, the more they will believe. I am afraid your relationship with Cassidy, cannot go back to being friends.”

“Wait a minute, my relationship with Cassidy, never moved from being friends!”

“As a journalist Andréa, surely you must know that perception and reality are two totally different things?” Miranda snapped.

“But…” Andy, needing to move, paced from the sofa to the kitchen worktop, stopped, picked up the lonely half bagel and looked at it in contemplation, then put it back down again and came back to stand in front of Miranda, “Just to be clear, I am not stopping seeing your daughters because the gutter press likes to twist the facts!”

“I don’t expect you to,” the woman replied cutting across Andy’s argument before she’d even made it.

“Oh. Well if I can’t end the supposed relationship and I’m still going to see her, how is that going to get Cassidy off Page Six?”

“Well it may not entirely” Miranda agreed, “however, the issue is not whether you are seen with her, it’s whether or not any photos can be read in a romantic light, because if they can not, there is no story, and therefore nothing to be gained by printing them.”

“Which of course they can’t, but we are never going to convince them of that.”

“But we can Andréa,” Miranda said, catching and holding the younger woman’s gaze. “Think of another type of relationship where hugging and having the twins staying over is perfectly normal. Where it’s even perfectly natural for you to tell them off as you did earlier.”

Andy frowned, then frowned harder, then her eyes glazed and went very wide, “no, no, no, no, no!”

“Ah” Miranda said, a bitter smile on her face, “light finally dawns. If nothing else, it’s a much juicier story, is it not?”


	2. Chapter 2

Andy walked back to the stove, picked up the coffee pot, changed her mind and put it down again. She eyed the bottle of vodka on the shelf that Lily had brought by a couple of months ago, watched as her hand reached for it without conscious thought, blinked and brought it back down, pinching her other arm in the process, just to check she was actually awake and this wasn't some really weird nightmare she was having. Then she took a deep breath and let it out in a hiss, before finally turning back towards Miranda, who was watching her every move. "You must be completely out of your mind!" Andy said, when she was finally able to form a sentence.

"Well I'm certainly beginning to question the sanity of both of us" Miranda agreed, "however, these are my daughters we are talking about, and you were correct when you told them they mean the world to me. I am quite prepared to make myself look like a laughing stock, if it will spare either of them."

"Gee thanks," Andy muttered.

"Don't be ridiculous Andréa, please bare in mind that I am more than old enough to be your mother. How else will people perceive it, than the last ditch attempt of a silly old woman to regain her youth!"

"I'm being ridiculous? Women a lot younger than you, would kill to look like that!" Andy replied waving her arm at her ex-boss. "They're much more likely to think that I'm either a gold digger or using you for your connections, I am just a low rent reporter from a two-bit newspaper after all."

Miranda pursed her lips again, "you will agree however, that either way, it is a far juicier story. It will put a different spin on the photographs and is likely to keep Cassidy off of Page Six, at least in the long run, unless she does anything else stupid."

Andy had opened her mouth to object again, when she processed the words, "What do you mean, anything else stupid?"

Miranda sighed, "contrary to your evident belief, Andréa, I do know my children and to a certain extent you. Nor am I one of the masses who jumps immediately to connotations of sex in every photograph I see, I spent enough years creating the illusion at Runway after all. I imagine that Cassidy got herself into a mess, and for some reason I don't yet know, called you to sort it out. That she stayed the night here, evidently means it was easier than trying to get back into Barnard, or that she didn't want to go back. As both my daughters and apparently you, are tactile by nature, I read absolutely nothing into the body language. Although do not lend her that sweatshirt again, grey does nothing for her complexion." Andy opened her mouth to respond, but Miranda held up a hand and forestalled her, "I have only two questions, is there absolutely any chance that Cassidy will need to see a doctor? And am I going to need at any point, for any possible reason, to contact Max?"

Stunned into silence, Andy had a passing resemblance to a guppy for a few moments. "My lawyer" Miranda clarified, as if Andy could possibly forget, even after six years, that Miranda was represented by a man called Maxwell Henry de Vriese III.

"I know," she said, then sat down at the free end of the couch, the strangeness of the morning finally taking it's toll on the stability of her knees. "So what was all that about my irresponsible behavior?" she finally asked.

Miranda turned so that she was facing her, "as a journalist, you should be more aware than most, how these things happen. Tom Ford clearly did not design what Cassidy was wearing for standing on a New York street in February, and you may not consider yourself gutter press Andréa but really, you must have known there would be some lurking near a place like Avenue. She isn't Paris Hilton, thank God, but nor is she a hick from Cincinnati either."

"Hey! I'm from —" Andy stopped as Miranda looked at her and the reporter realized that that, had been precisely her point. "You're right" she said, rubbing her face momentarily, as her brain scrambled to catch up, "I didn't think. Nor did I think they'd follow me home, and wait outside all night to get a photo of Cassidy leaving. I'm sorry Miranda, I guess I've been away from your spotlight too long. My instincts for what constitutes news in your world, aren't as sharp as they were."

Ignoring that, Miranda said "And I don't imagine Cassidy was in any fit state to think at all. Now, will you please answer my questions?"

"What que —? Oh, um — well —"

"Andréa, making sure my daughter is safe and that there are no more repercussions from this, is more important right now than any promise you made. Don't you agree?"

"I do, but I can't break my promise either, she'd never trust me again if I did that."

"I don't see how she would know?"

"Miranda, I'm sorry but you're —" she paused, wondering if this was possibly the stupidest thing she had ever contemplated, then she decided that it had to be said if the woman was to understand, "you're not exactly known for your measured response to things." Miranda's lips tightened. "I know you think you'd be helping Cassidy, but truly you wouldn't be. Please trust me to deal with this. I promise if I can't, I'll tell you."

"You are asking a lot of me Andréa!" she said, wondering exactly when her daughters had stopped trusting her.

"Well, you're asking a lot of me too" Andy replied. "You're asking me to turn my life upside down. I mean, if I'm going to pretend I'm their —" a lump had appeared in her throat and she found she actually had to swallow several times before she could say the word, "step-mom… I may as well act like it, right?"

Miranda turned away and looked longingly at her empty coffee mug, thinking there probably wasn't enough in the world to get her through this. "Very well" she finally agreed.

"Great" the brunette said, smiling for the first time since she'd turned on her cell that morning. "OK." She stood up, picked up the mugs and moved back towards the stove. Having regained control of enough of her brain cells to actually have a rational thought for the first time since Miranda had arrived, she said, "you know, we're probably worrying over nothing. There are enough celebrities in New York that this will be old news by tomorrow, or the next day at the most, and no-one will remember it in a week."

"I wish that were true" Miranda muttered, then looked up and continued, "it can't have escaped your notice Andréa, that that rag reports any problems in my life, professional or personal, with a certain amount of relish, one might even call it glee."

Andy looked at her and nodded, "yes I thought that earlier, why is that?"

Miranda began to purse her lips again as Andy held up her hands and said, "Sorry, no questions, I remember, I just thought it might be helpful to know and my brain hasn't really caught up with any of this yet."

The older woman looked away and sighed, then said "many years ago the editor of that esteemed newspaper," and Andy thought she had never before heard so much scorn in the woman's voice, "was the editor of The Boulevard. I had not long been promoted to Editor-in-Chief, and was still trying to turn Runway from a failing magazine into the publication it is today. He implied, rather crudely, that in return for certain sexual favors, he could get everyone on the North Shore to help my sales figures. I was not polite in the manner in which I turned him down."

"I should hope not!" Andy said disgusted, "and he's been holding a grudge ever since?"

"I wouldn't call it a grudge exactly" Miranda replied, "let's just say that he will be more than happy to print any and all stories that come across his desk, that could be seen as humiliating to me personally or professionally, and to run with them for as long as he is able."

"Which means this isn't going to go away" Andy mused. "OK, but won't what you're contemplating be just as bad? Won't that hurt you, hurt your job? I mean, you head one of the largest publishing houses in America."

"My job is perfectly secure. Unless the share price goes through the floor, the board can't touch me, and while people will inevitably gossip, I don't think revelations of my supposed sexuality, are going to cause that much of a change on Wall Street in this day and age, do you?" Andy agreed, and Miranda continued, both her voice and her expression hardening, "it makes no difference in any case. There are no lengths to which I will not go, to protect my daughters."

If Andy had wavered before, her own resolve hardened in that instant. The Miranda she knew could be both petty and controlling if the whim took her, but the reporter also knew of the hard work and dedication that had gone in to her quest for perfection, and while Andy may have sometimes wondered if there was anything in Miranda's life she cared for more than that, she was in no doubt now.

If Miranda was prepared to sacrifice both her reputation and her dignity to the altar of scuttlebutt and innuendo, masquerading as press freedom and the public right to know, then Andy would, as she had always done, try to make the path as smooth and stable as possible for her. She pushed down the tiny voice that wondered why that was the case and said, "so how exactly do you want to play this, then?" coming over and handing Miranda back her mug. No, Miranda thought taking a sip, there really wasn't enough coffee in the world, but at least if she had Andréa to make it for her, it might be a little more bearable. "I suppose we'll have to tell the girls what we're doing," Andy added.

"Absolutely not" their mother replied firmly, "Cassidy will only feel guilty that you are being put in this position," she didn't add, that she also knew who her daughter would hold responsible for it, "besides, as I've already said, if those who know you believe it, then so will everyone else."

"So we tell no-one?" Miranda nodded once. "Well I guess that makes it easier to keep the truth a secret. Although convincing them might take some doing."

"Andréa, the girls spend all their time at college. All you have to do is appear with me at a few functions and a dinner or two. I am not known for tolerating people's presence for no reason, and I am sure you will also be relieved to hear, that unlike my daughters, I have never particularly enjoyed public displays of affection, so you will not be too put upon, in that area."

"But there's got to be some right?" Andy asked, "otherwise I'll just look like I'm your assistant again, after all, I've been to functions with you before. I mean, how did you act around your ex-husbands when you first went out?" The glare Andy received for that question, almost had her rethinking her agreement to this deception. "OK" she said, "no asking about the exes, got it. One thing you forgot though Miranda, is that your daughters know both of us very well, and if I suddenly turn into someone they don't recognize, they are going to know something is up."

"Your meaning?"

Andy frowned, then tried to put her thoughts into words, "well, you said it yourself. I'm a tactile person by nature and if I'm suddenly not, especially with the one person I'm supposed to be in a relationship with, it's just going to look wrong."

"Then what do you suggest?"

Clasping her hands around her own mug, Andy sat down, trying to think, "I don't know, half the time I don't even know I'm doing it. Take that photo of us leaving the apartment for instance," she said, waving her hand towards the paper, "if you'd asked me to recall it, I'd have just said we walked to the subway and when we got to Barnard, we had coffee and went our separate ways. Would I have mentioned I had my arm around her shoulders? No, because I don't remember it… and Cassidy is almost as tall as you are."

"You have never yet put your arm across my shoulders, Andréa. I am sure you will be able to restrain yourself from doing so in the future" Miranda replied, in what Andy used to think of as her crushing tone of voice.

"Miranda, when I worked for you I was juggling a notebook, pen, bag and a cell at the very least. That kind of made PDA's difficult, even if the ice queen persona hadn't discouraged it." She sighed, "Look, why don't we go visit them, that way you can see what I mean. We're going to have to tell them something anyway, and if you can bare not to scowl, Page Six might even get another decent picture."

Ice queen? Miranda did scowl, "and why would I want them to have a picture of me apparently endorsing the very relationship I am trying to quash?"

Sighing, Andy tried not to sound like she was explaining it to a six year old. "You're quite sure you want to do this, right?" Miranda nodded once again. "OK, most reporters, at least those who don't belong to the gutter press, know that a story that sounds to good to be true, usually is. If we start parading in front of cameras, trying to get them to believe we're a couple, we are ultimately going to fail, because a lot of them will see through what we are trying to do." She stopped and took a breath.

"Please do continue enlightening me on the intelligence of the press, Andréa" Miranda said icily.

Putting her mug on the floor, Andy got up and then knelt in front of her supposed new love interest. She reached out and took Miranda's free hand and the woman on the couch went rigid. The reporter continued quietly, "We'll end up on Page Six if that's all you want, but when others start questioning it and The Post see that they've been fooled, the fall out will be far worse. If we are going to convince everyone that we're together, we need to do it subtly. Let them catch us out with the girls first, even if that makes other people think The Post was correct. That way, when they finally see us on our own at one of your functions, it will seem like it's been going on a while, and they've only just rooted out the real story, just like they think they did with Cassidy and I, and…"

"And?" Miranda asked tightly when Andy stopped, but clearly hadn't finished.

"And" Andy sighed, "you are going to have to stop looking like you want to kill me every time I touch you."

The moment was broken by a shrill tone and getting up, she walked to the table and grabbed her cell. "Hey Doug" she said and was amused to hear the relief in his voice that she'd picked up.

"Andy, hey. Listen, sorry about leaving, it was just, I, uh…"

"It's fine, don't worry about it. Thanks for the bagels."

"Oh sure, no problem. Listen, thought you ought to know, there's a guy hanging around outside. I saw him acting suspicious when I left and I thought I'd stay around for a bit in case dragon lady decided to leave. So, I went to that new retro store you were telling me about, fabulous clothes, I'll have to show you what I bought. Anyway, I've just come back and he's still here so…"

"Thanks for letting us know. Listen I think we're going to head over and see the twins, so can you intercept Lily for me, tell her I'll catch up with her later?"

"Oh sure, so you're OK right? She hasn't hired a hit man or anything?"

"No Doug" she turned to look at Miranda, an amused expression on her face as she said, "as far as I know she hasn't hired a hit man. Although, I'd probably be the last to know that anyway. I'll call you when I get back, OK? I don't think there's anywhere she can dump a body between here and Barnard."

The loudly growled, "don't be ridiculous Andréa, there are plenty of alleyways and the whole of Central Park," momentarily stunned both the hearers.

Doug gulped, "are you sure it's wise to…"

Andy bit her lip and then said, "she's kidding Doug. Honestly, I'll be perfectly safe."

"Oh, well OK then," he replied doubtfully, "I'll let you go, and head Lily off at the pass."

"Thanks Doug and thanks for coming over, I'll see you both soon, bye." She ended the call, "did you really have to worry my friends anymore than they already are?" she asked.

Miranda regarded her from the couch, her neck curving gracefully up and putting the reporter in mind of a swan. "Really Andréa, they see two out of context photos, and believe you are having a clandestine relationship with a barely 18 year old girl. Disregarding what that says they think about your personal life, they appear to regard you as stupid enough to enter into this relationship, with my daughter of all people, knowing that I can, and will, do more than ruin you. Yet you say these people, who think you stupid enough to do such a thing, are your friends. What exactly does that say about you?"

And there you have it, Andy thought, the thing you had to remember about swans was that their beaks were deadly and that their wings could break your bones, "you may have a point," she agreed. "Anyway, there is apparently someone lurking around down there, although he may or may not have a camera."

"Wonderful" Miranda sneered.

"So I didn't ask, did you come by car and driver?"

"This is hardly company business, Andréa."

"No and they can be such gossips too, unless you still have Roy?"

"I do still have Roy," Miranda acknowledged. "I'm sure he will be thrilled to see you again. Don't think I don't know about the, band of brothers fighting in the trenches, looks you used to give each other when you thought I wouldn't notice."

Andy flushed and continued, "so you have a car out front?"

"Obviously."

"Then you'd better give me the keys."

Miranda's eyebrows rose, "do you even have a license?"

Andy just stopped herself from saying something she knew she'd regret, and contented herself with, "you know I do Miranda. You've sent me on errands that required one before now."

"Well I still don't see why —"

"How about 'Driven to her Doom' with a photo of me having to get into your car, on tomorrow's Page Six. At least if I'm driving, no-one can say I was under duress."

"I see. I suppose that means that I am not allowed to scowl, either? Whatever the provocation."

"You can scowl at him as much as you like" Andy promised, walking to get Miranda's coat, which Doug had hung incongruously amongst her jackets. She brought it back and offered it to her ex-boss, trying to quash the sudden flashback she'd gotten in doing so, before picking up her own from the back of the couch, where she'd dumped it when she'd got home late the previous evening; "and in return" she continued, "I promise not to put my arm over your shoulders", then bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at the image that made. Miranda took the coat but did not put it on, or pick up her bag, "what's the matter?" Andy finally asked as the woman continued to regard her.

"I was waiting for you to change," Miranda replied.

Despite the unusually reasonable tone, Andy's defense mechanisms kicked in, "I'll wear anything you say when we're going somewhere formal Miranda, but please remember that I don't work for you anymore."

"I do remember" Miranda replied, putting her sunglasses back on and not adding that she thought painfully of it every day, "however, even you must realize that, head over heels in love with you as I undoubtedly am, I would still not be seen with anyone wearing that," she pointed an accusing finger at the offending article of clothing.

Andy looked down, sighed, closed her eyes, counted to 10 and said, "I'll just go and change," before disappearing back into her bedroom, missing the smug expression that adorned her companion's face. Why the hell had she chosen to wear her 'strike a pose' T-shirt today of all days? Oh, yes, it was clean, she hadn't been home long enough to do laundry in a week, and Doug had been bashing at her door at an ungodly hour.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time they had arrived at Sulzberger Hall, Miranda’s mood had not improved. She scowled at the guard on the desk as he cheerfully waved her companion through without requesting ID. Making a mental note to write to the Dean and ignoring the fact that, she too had not been asked for proof of who she was. Hearing, the quick exchange of, “Hey Tony, is Melissa sleeping through the night yet?”

“I wish, Andy. Still at least I get peace and quiet here, huh,” she wondered just how often the reporter came to see her daughters.

That several other greetings were made on the short journey to the twins second floor room, finally caused her to say, “my, my, you do make it a habit of knowing absolutely everyone, don’t you.”

Andy just grinned, “there’s no harm in being friendly Miranda, it usually gets you a better response from people. Besides, I did a talk on journalism here last semester. That, I assure you, is why a lot of them appear to know me.”

“I see, and is that when you met my girls again?”

Andy kept walking for a few more paces before stopping and saying, “ah, here we are.” She glanced sideways, “sorry. Of course you knew that,” she finished as she knocked on the door.

Miranda could not recall ever having seen her ex-assistant and the twins together before, and now she noted that her daughters seemed to morph into large, overwhelming puppies around her, in a display of affection that they had never afford their mother, even at their most loving. For the most part she was grateful for that, but as she stood back and let the sight wash over her, a small part of her wondered.

Caroline spotted her first, and her eyes widened, “Is this because of Cass?”

Her sister immediately turned in Andy’s arms and stepped away looking guilty, “mum?”

I thought you always worked on a Sunday now we aren’t home?” Caroline continued, bringing her mother’s attention back to herself, “you always seem to be at the office, if we call.”

“Contrary to your belief Caroline, I do not always spend Sunday working,” Miranda lied, “and no this is not just because of Cassidy.” Then continued smoothly, “although as Andréa and I were discussing it and we noticed the time, we thought we’d take the both of you out for brunch.”

Andy wondered if the ‘we’s’ in Miranda’s sentence had been as easy to say as they had sounded, especially since she was still having trouble getting her head around the idea of them being a ‘we’, even a fictional one. She smiled at Cassidy, “every thing’s fine Cass” she said, “how about we walk the loop down to the basketball court, and then have brunch at Le Monde?”

The twins automatically looked at their mother.

“Well?” she asked, “answer Andréa, would you like to do that or not?”

“Yeah, sure we would” Cassidy replied, not adding that they did it quite often, as she was still a little confused at their joint appearance. She looked over at Andy who just smiled again.

“Yeah” added Caroline, “then can we go see a movie? That French thing you wanted to see is on at the IFC Andy.”

“Uh, I don’t think I can today” Andy replied, “I have a couple of feature proposals I need to do some work on.”

“Oh? what happened about that one with the bakery that helps immigrants get into work?” Cassidy asked as the girls got their coats.

“Hot Bread Kitchen? That’s almost finished. It’s on all different immigrant initiatives in the city, and it’s running in Friday’s edition.” Caroline locked up and they started down the corridor as Andy carried on, “it’s tying in with a piece of Bill Haliday’s on the update of Judge Katzmann’s New York Immigration Representation Study, and another by Sondra Kendrick on the immigration crackdown in low paid occupations.” Miranda watched as the three of them went on ahead, seemingly oblivious to her presence. She was used to this with her daughters, who often went off into their own little world, but it was the first time she had experienced it from Andréa, and feeling like an intruder she followed uncertainly. “I just need to do an edit, because as usual, it’s too long! That won’t take a lot of time though.”

Once out of the building, the twins fell in naturally either side of the reporter, as they made their way towards Riverside Park, “At the moment I can’t decide what to write next, so I need to finish both proposals for the next features meeting and let my editor decide. One is on the statewide Medicaid local share policy, and the effect of Governor Cuomo’s budget cap last year. The other is the rise of the city homeless figures again, and the impact that things like the stopping of the Advantage program has had,” Andy said. “You know it’s absolutely appalling that…” she stopped suddenly and turned, regarding Miranda with a grin. When the older woman finally reached them, Andy hooked out an elbow at her, waggling it slightly. The look in her eyes dared Miranda to take it, and she missed the twins puzzled looks as she did so. Miranda pursed her lips and ignored the invitation, although she did start to walk between the reporter and Cassidy as she said, “and what is absolutely appalling, Andréa?”

“What? Oh, that there are now over 40,000 people in homeless shelters in one of the richest cities, of one of the richest countries in the world, and that’s just the official figures. It doesn’t include those having to crash with friends or family, those on the streets or living in the subway...” Miranda glanced to her right as she opened her mouth to comment, and then tried to drag her eyes away, but failed to do so before the object of her scrutiny noticed.

Andy’s own eyes narrowed in response, and Miranda could almost see the wheels turning in her brain. When she realized her arm was slung over Caroline’s shoulders, it twitched reflexively and Caroline turned to look at her, putting her arm around Andy’s waist as she did so and looking at her questioningly. The reporter smiled at her and shook her head, then turned back and looked past Miranda, “but enough about work” she said. “Cassidy, how did that essay on Patrick Henry go down?”

Cassidy replied, though her tone, Miranda noted as she turned towards her, seemed a little subdued. She looked surprised as her mother took her hand and squeezed it gently. She did not pull away either as Miranda said, “tell me more about it, darling,” and Andy smiled, unseen by either, as Cassidy proceeded to do so with more enthusiasm in her tone.

Pulling away as they neared civilization again, Cassidy sped up slightly, swerved in and then started walking backwards in front of them, “you know Andy, if you can’t go see that film today, you should take mum, she’s always liked Catherine Deneuve”.

“Ah” Miranda commented, “Now there is a woman who knows how to dress.”

“That she does,” Andy agreed.

“You’ve met her haven’t you mum?” Caroline asked.

“Yes, I’ve met her a few times in — Cassidy! Do look where you’re going darling, he almost had you over. I thought skateboards weren’t allowed in —”

Cassidy swung in next to her again, saying, “Mum, Catherine Deneuve?”

“What? Oh yes, well I’ve met her a few times in Paris of course, an incredibly gracious woman, such charm, such style.”

Andy thought it prudent not to mention anything to do with Paris and fortunately, as they had reached Riverside Drive, the conversation stopped until they had reached Le Monde.

Unfortunately for Andy, eating the least meant Miranda finished first, and she again broached the subject the reporter had so far managed to avoid answering. “So Andréa, you have still yet to tell me how long you have been friends with my daughters, and why I am only hearing about it today.”

“Um, well…” she began, and shot the girls a look which clearly said help me out here. Unfortunately for her, they were both studiously looking at their plates.

Miranda watched as Andy took a breath, then very deliberately looked at her and jumped into her new role with both feet, “well in the interests of full disclosure, they don’t know I’ve been friends with you for quite some time either Miranda.” Her sharp eyes could not fail to see the slightly scared look in those of the other woman as she said this, or the hand on the table that half clenched, awaiting the fallout.

The twins heads both shot up and regarded her with stunned, and in Cassidy’s case, slightly hurt, expressions. “Although I have never discussed you with your mother, just as I have never discussed your mother with you,” she continued, turning to them.

“We thought you hated each other,” Cassidy said.

“Yeah, that’s why we never invited you to the same things,” Caroline added.

Miranda, sensing an atmosphere descend, over what had otherwise been a surprisingly pleasant meal, and a blessed calm before the storm she knew to be the week’s schedule, sighed internally. She had caused this, she had barged into Andréa’s life, and just as she had always done in the past, the girl had taken her orders without complaint. Even though she still didn’t have the answer to her question, she followed Andréa’s lead and said “I see. That Andréa failed to mention that she saw the two of you regularly, will be something we will discuss” she said, catching the reporter’s eye. “Now that everything is in the open however, I hope we can come to an understanding. Anything that you say or do when you are with Andréa will remain just as it was before, I shall not hear about it; and likewise, what ever I say or do when with her, will stay private from you. I do hope, however, that this also means that we can do more things together… the four of us.” She regretted that they were still regarding the reporter as if she were a spy in the camp and added sharply, “Girls, you have a relationship with Andréa that is precious to you, as do I. The fact that they are both now acknowledged, does not alter them in any way. If today has taught you nothing else, I hope it has taught you that while the truth can be twisted, Andréa has always had all our best interests at heart.” Had she turned at that moment, she would have seen the stunned expression on Andy’s face, as it was, she kept looking sternly at her daughters.

#~~~#

Having seen the twins, still slightly subdued, back to their dorm room, promising to see them again soon, the women left. This time Miranda drove, and could not restrain herself from again asking about Andréa’s friendship with the twins, “Miranda, that really is something you should ask them about,” her companion said quietly, but with a firmness of tone that Miranda had never heard when she had been her assistant.

“And I will, but some clue would be helpful, Andréa,” Miranda argued back.

Andy sighed, “they were still at Dalton, OK. So depending on how long we’ve supposedly been seeing each other, we’re going to have to come up with a back story on our relationship for them; why we never told them; why I never came to the town house.” Then thinking back to her days delivering the book, continued, “can you drop me at the 77th Street station, I can get the subway straight back from there. There’s no point in you going out of your way to take me home, and despite what you said to Caroline, I know you must still have a lot of work to do.”

“It really is no trouble Andréa,” Miranda huffed.

“No, it’s fine Miranda honestly. I’d better go and show Lily & Doug I’m still alive anyway.” She rooted in her bag as Miranda crossed Central Park, finding her notebook and pen and scribbling down her cell number, then waited until Miranda indicated and pulled over, before she handed her the piece of paper, “I know you’re really busy next week, with all the print deadlines and stuff,” she said, “but if you haven’t changed your mind about this, and want to call me when it eases up, maybe we can work out how we’re going to play it, OK?”

“‘Stuff’ Andréa? You’re an accredited journalist with a bona fide newspaper, and still the word you turn to, is ‘stuff’?”

“Miranda really? I talk about meeting up to plan exactly how we lie, to not only the associated press, but to everyone near and dear to us, and you’re berating me on my choice of nouns?”

“Of course I am.” Miranda replied, “it shows an appalling lack of attention to detail. Which gives me no confidence, whatsoever, in your planning abilities.”

“Says the woman who’s life is planned via assistant!” Andy muttered.

Miranda pursed her lips, “you seem to have gained a displeasing amount of confidence in the last few years Andréa.”

Andy turned to face her and said conversationally, “yes, it’s amazing what can happen when you’re not constantly being berated for being fat, stupid, inefficient and unstylish, isn’t it?”

“You were never stupid and rarely inefficient,” Miranda said, then eying her clothing continued, “although it is a pity stylish didn’t stick.”

“I no longer have the closet to raid” Andy pointed out before adding insecurely, “what about fat?”

“Andréa, just because I’ve spent most of my life around women whose job it is to be a walking hanger, does not mean that I disapprove of someone who is a healthy weight. As I am quite sure you heard me agree with Cassidy’s assessment that you were beautiful, I do not know why we are having this conversation.”

Andy smiled, “thank you, I think you’re beautiful too” she replied, “and —”

A truck behind them, choose that moment to point out that they were blocking a public thoroughfare and Andy thought it a prudent move to hop out. “Oops, thanks Miranda” she said, and the white haired woman was left alone to scowl into her rear-view mirror, before pulling back into the traffic and heading home to try and catch up on her work.

As Chairman of Elias-Clark, she now had 20 magazines to oversee and although, in general, she let the editors get on with their jobs, she had made some sweeping changes since making it to the top 2 years ago, and she now had final say on everything. Irv had after all, been nothing more than a glorified bean counter in an ill fitting suit. Miranda on the other hand, had told the board that if they appointed her, they could expect results, but that they would back her decisions, be they creative, financial or otherwise. She would do for Elias-Clark what she had done for Runway, but she would not justify herself to them, as she’d had to do to her predecessor and this she wanted in writing, before she took the job.

Her tenure secure, for five years at least, she had set about re-structuring and re-organizing the entire company. Nigel was now happily ensconced as the editor-in-chief of the male version of Runway and Emily had replaced him, being surprisingly competent at the task and justifying Miranda’s choice. It would not be too many years before she was an editor herself. Miranda had thought on more than one occasion just lately, that the current editor of Runway was getting a little long in the tooth for the job, despite, she quashed down the thought, being a full seven years younger than herself. The hirings and firings had gone on for months, and had not gone by without accusations of favoritism. The changes however had succeeded. Fashion may have been her oeuvre, but it was her eye for layouts, that had made both the sales figures and advertising revenue, increase across the whole range of titles. This had made both the board and the shareholders, very, very happy.

It had too, expanded Miranda’s grasp beyond the world of fashion. With the titles she now controlled, no door was unopen, no executive too busy and yet, she thought as she crossed her silent threshold, it all seemed empty, hollow somehow. She reached down to pet Patricia, the only soul left to greet her, moving a little slower than she used to and reminding her that time, however much she might sometimes want it to, did not stand still. It had been six years since she had last seen Andréa. Six years of second assistants who knew how to dress. Six years of “Yes Miranda.” Six years of incompetence and cold coffee. 


	4. Chapter 4

If she had hoped for a reprieve, or even a total rethink from their discussion of the day before, Andy would have been sorely disappointed. Having slept badly, due to an old nightmare resurfacing in which Miranda ordered her to, literally, do fifty million things at once. She thanked God she had started switching her cell off at night when she’d become a feature writer. There had been three messages before she turned it on at 6.45am, and she was already seriously regretting giving Miranda the means to contact her again.

\- - “Andréa, why is your phone switched off? You’re a reporter, how is anyone supposed to get hold of you? I take it from this, that you haven’t seen the latest offering in that rag! I suggest you do so and call me!”

\- - “Andréa, I am not accustomed to being ignored! You can not possible still be asleep at this hour of the morning, so call me.”

\- - “Um, this is Miranda Priestly’s office, a message for Andrea Sachs. Ms Priestly has found time in her exceptionally busy schedule for you at 8.50 this morning, please don’t be late!” The last had gone from sounding merely nervous to downright terrified begging in the space of two sentences, and Andy wondered if her mercurial ex-boss was breaking in yet another assistant.

Finally coming awake properly, she logged on her laptop and entered the website address of the New York Post, vowing there and then, that none of her hard earned dollars were going to be spent on it, no matter how many pictures of her they published. This one she thought was rather good, even if they clearly couldn’t tell the difference between the twins, since Cassidy had her back to the camera. Miranda was walking next to Andy, and Andy’s arm was predictably around Caroline’s shoulders.

Her hand had automatically reached for her cell and was just about to press dial, when her brain caught up. No. Catering to Miranda’s every whim had sucked the life out of her six years ago, temporarily ruined her relationships with just about everybody, and she still suffered from PTSD every time she heard the notes that had made up Miranda’s old ring tone. She couldn’t do it again.

Looking down, she scrolled to the last call Miranda had made and added the number to her address book, then changed the ring tone to The Imperial March. At least that way she would be amused rather than traumatized when she heard it, and knowing Miranda, she would be hearing it a lot.

Then deciding that she would have to thwart Miranda’s high handed attitude regarding her, sooner rather than later, if she wanted any semblance of a life; she had a shower, got dressed and made her way over to Barnard. Her only concessions to the phone calls she had received, being a series of calls of her own. When 8.50 arrived at Elias-Clarke, Andy Sachs would not be arriving with it.

At 8.45 however, Miranda’s rather harassed second assistant received a phone call from security, saying that a young man was in reception with a delivery for Ms Priestly. The young man specified that it was imperative that she get said delivery, immediately. On arriving in the lobby she discovered one Jacob Schulmann talking to the editor of Men’s Runway. Or rather Jacob was listening, Nigel was flirting. Curiously, they appeared to know each other. “You have a delivery for Miranda Priestly?” she asked, too stressed to worry that she was interrupting.

“Yup, here you go” he said, flashing her a smile.

“Here, let me help you” Nigel said, “I’ve a feeling my 9 o’clock is about to be brought forward anyway!”

“Oh but Mr Kipling, Miranda has an appoint —”

“Yes, I’ll let you tell her it’s canceled,” Nigel said, looking over his shoulder and winking at Jacob.

“Canceled?” the girl sounded terrified, he was unsurprised. You had to be very brave or very stupid to cancel on Miranda, and while he’d never thought of Six as being stupid, she did seem to delight in pushing Miranda’s buttons lately.

“What do you mean, canceled?” he heard Miranda say as he stood outside the office, holding the other part of Andy gift, the part he had tried to convince, whatever her name was, to take in first. Mind you, with tact like that he didn’t think he’d bother learning it, she wouldn’t be here that long.

He sighed, knowing he’d have to rectify this. He would be persona non grata forever if he put Miranda in a bad mood on the Monday morning of print week, not that technically, he, had. Girding his own loins for once, he walked in, “Miranda” he said and continued to her desk, setting the Starbucks down. “The other part of Andy’s present, and what she,” he pointed to the girl standing with an expression that said, please just kill me before I die from nervous exhaustion or throw myself under a bus, “means, is that unfortunately, Andy’s editor needed a meeting with her that she couldn’t get out of, otherwise, she would of course be here.”

A perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose, clearly disbelieving him, “you’ve seen her?” she asked, picking up the coffee.

“Well no, she had a friend deliver them” he admitted, but Andy would never be so discourteous otherwise. He knew her well enough to know that was the case, even if she had excellent reasons for not wanting to be within a 20 block radius of the woman sitting in front of him, regardless of the photo from yesterday. He watched as Miranda communed with her coffee, there really was no other word for it, and even if it wasn’t quite as hot as when Andy did it, he knew from holding it, that it was still the hottest coffee that had been inside the building in six years. “The flowers are exquisite” he said at last.

“Yes” Miranda agreed opening her eyes. Setting her coffee back down, she reached forward and plucked at the card nestled among the blooms. A nail edged under the seam of the envelope and tugged.

It was the only florist’s card she had ever seen contain bullet points. It read:

 

\- Liked the photo. You looked stunning, as always.

\- A summons is not a date.

PTO

Turning it over Miranda found,

Will you go to the movies with me?

(That’s a date)

 

The corners of her lips twitched and Nigel started to think the Post was right, Six was a dragon slayer. Deliberately putting the card back into its envelope and then into her bag, away from prying eyes, she looked up, and Nigel had the momentary sensation that he was in the presence of divine radiance, which he knew translated into Miranda being happy. He filed that away for future reflection as her face regained it’s usual expression and she said, “Nigel, since you’re here…”

“Yes Miranda” he said, “let me just get my files.” Going to get them, he managed to catch them just as Miranda’s first assistant dumped them off her desk and onto the floor, and crisis averted, another work day resumed.

#~~~#

It was not until she finally got home, late that evening, and placed the flowers in her study, that Miranda remembered that it was, in fact, all pretense. Andréa was acting the way she did because Miranda was, to put it bluntly, guilting her in to it. That the younger woman was letting her, and even accepting it with style and grace, really did not alter that fact. Nor did Andréa’s obvious willingness to do anything for her daughters. The flowers, the request of a date, it was not in the woman’s own hand, and she therefore had to play the role of the potential lover. It had been as Miranda stipulated, no-one else must know.

She wondered now, why she had said that? It had seemed such an obvious solution at the time that she hadn’t thought to question it, now she was beginning to wonder if it was wise. She had been honest with the reporter when she said people would think she was trying to recapture her youth. She wouldn’t put it passed some of them to speculate that she drank Andrea’s blood, or bathed in it. She knew her reputation. All her years of seeking perfection, all the struggle to build her legacy, and yet, now her detractors would always have this to point at and remember. With three divorces behind her, they’d always had something with which to brand her a failure, but this? Why had this been the answer her mind had first jumped to? Had there been another way?

Having poured herself a drink, she sat down at her desk. Her mind still unable to come up with an alternative that would get Cassidy out of the spotlight, but still allow the twins to keep their friendship with Andréa. Not that she had ever had a problem shutting down unsuitable friendships before, that trumpet player that had turned up on the doorstep to see Caroline when she was 15, being a case in point. Her mind stopped, had Andréa known about him?

Why was she so keen, in any case, to maintain the girl’s friendship with the twins? Hadn’t Andréa already betrayed her once? What was to stop her doing such a thing again? Doing it to her daughters? Even as one part of her mind thought this, another shouted that Andréa would not do such a thing, that she knew, when she was thinking clearly, that Andréa, no matter what she’d thrown at her, was not spiteful. Was in fact, one of the most honorable people she knew, although in her world that wasn’t saying much. Perhaps that was why her mind first jumped to the deception that it did. Andréa, if nothing else, could be trusted to help her protect her daughters, and they came first. She would do anything for them and there was no one else who’s opinions she cared about… and yet, she thought back again to the flowers, and the card, and the slightly giddy way they had made her feel.

Her lips drew themselves into a straight line and then pursed slightly, Miranda Priestley did not do giddy. All this was an illusion, and that was all. The beginnings of a deception that would see her daughter safely out of the limelight, and she would do anything to make that happen, anything. She would just have to remember it was an act, she had to, for Andréa sake as well as her own.

#~~~#

Andy’s day meanwhile, had turned sour much more quickly. Since her arrangement to meet up with Cassidy the day before had been altered through force of circumstance, she headed over to gymnastics practice, hoping to catch her afterwards. When Cassidy saw her however, her smile faltered.

“I brought you coffee” Andy said.

“Thanks” Cassidy replied offhandedly.

“What’s the matter?” the reporter asked, just as three girls came out of the entrance, giggling as they walked past.

“Nothing. I just have lecture notes to write up. I have to go.”

“Cassidy, what’s going on?” Andy asked.

“Nothing, I’m just busy, OK?”

“Fine” Andy said, fighting the urge to sigh, “but we need to talk about Saturday and I’m not taking no for an answer on that, you called me, remember.”

Cassidy nodded reluctantly, “I finish at 3, are you free sometime then?”

“Sure,” Andy relented, “meet in the coffee shop?”

“Um, how about I come up to the Starbucks near your office?”

“OK. Call me when you get there.”

Cassidy nodded, “sure, thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you then.” Andy did sigh as she watched her walk off. She had really hoped this thing with Miranda wouldn’t change her relationship with the twins, but she guessed she was being naive. If Cassidy was behaving like this when she thought they were just friends, who knew what she’d be like when she thought they were lovers. Andy paused at the thought, then wondered exactly how her life had gotten so weird. Then she pulled herself together and headed in to the paper.

It was no better there. Conversations stopped as she headed towards her desk, and as she sat and got out her laptop, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she tried to work. It didn’t help that a few of the people she called suddenly seemed reluctant to talk to her.

Mid-morning, Vince sidled up to her and a notepad came into view, pen poised, “Any comment Miss Sachs?” he asked in his heaviest Bronx accent. She turned and saw he had his press pass stuck into a trilby on his head and laughed, piercing the tension in the room.

“None at all,” she said, then turning to the room in general, continued, “so please carry on with whatever you were doing.”

The atmosphere settled some after that, and she did actually manage to set up a few meetings, but it niggled at the back of her mind, that something was definitely off.

It was after 4 when Cassidy finally called and Andy, who’d been on the verge of breaking her own vow not to call her, was relieved. When she got to Starbucks, she found the teen sitting at a table far in the back, having returned this morning’s favor and bought her a coffee. “Hey,” she said as she sat down.

“Hey” Cassidy replied quietly, “I’m sorry about this morning.”

“No problem” Andy said shrugging it off, “so have you thought about what I said on Saturday?” Cassidy nodded. “And?”

“I can’t shop Josh, Andy.” Cassidy said, her voice barely above a whisper. “No-one will ever speak to me again, and he wasn’t dealing, he gave it to me because he thought I’d enjoy it, everyone else was taking it… and I went and threw it up almost the second I took it. I knew I should never have told you,” Cassidy muttered the last.

Andy reached out and touched her arm just above the elbow, “Cassidy, you did the right thing, and I’m not going to make you tell on anyone” she said. “I just want you to consider the consequences. What if you hadn’t had the sense to, or been able to throw it up? You know there were over 22,000 MDMA-related emergency room visits last year. People die from this stuff!”

“Oh my God, please tell me you’re not going to write an article on this!”

Andy sighed, “in the future I might. It’s important Cassidy, and I’ve avoided it once, but I don’t know what the hell I’m going to tell your mother when she asks again, and she will.”

Cassidy looked horrified, “you can’t tell her Andy, she’d kill me, or ground me forever.”

Andy sighed, “you’re right I’m not going to tell her, but I really think you should.” she ignored the horrified look on Cassidy’s face and continued, “more than anyone else I know, your mother is a model of not going with the crowd, of being the one who forges the path she believes is right. It may not always be so, but at least she’s trying Cass, do you think that’s easy for her? Do you think that she was born being able to ignore all the stupid names people call her. To not react when papers like The Post imply she’s a bad mother?” Cassidy hung her head and Andy moved her arm and lifted the girl’s chin, so that she could see her face, “hey kiddo, none of that article was your fault,” she said. “If it hadn’t been this, then it would have been some other time and the words would have been the same, but no matter what you do, your mother loves you, and you should honor that by telling her the truth.”

“But don’t you see? That’s precisely why I can’t tell her,” Cassidy replied. “She would never give in to peer pressure and she’ll be disappointed that I did!”

“Cassidy, you have to stop thinking your mother won’t understand. After all, everyone does stupid things at 18. I know I did, and I’m sure she was no different, it’s all part of growing up.”

“Can I think about it?” she hedged.

“Sure. I’m not going to force you to do anything, but you know, the things you do have a nasty habit of coming back to haunt you, and I’m sure you’d rather she hear about it from you than from someone else, or from that rag. How many other people know anyway?”

“Just Josh.”

“And who exactly is this Josh?”

“Josh Baines, he’s… he’s at Columbia…”

And that slightly hesitant statement and the color that came to Cassidy’s cheeks, worried Andy almost as much as the reason they were here. “Giving you drugs, doesn’t make him cool Cassidy” Andy said quietly, unsure how even this mild criticism would be received.

“I know,” she replied, “I do… I just wanted to feel like part of the crowd for once. Everyone was doing it, and my training schedule and mum’s reputation means I don’t really get asked out a lot… by boys I mean,” she finished, blushing again.

Andy nodded, “what does Caroline think about it?”

“That I’m stupid, obviously… but it’s easier for her to meet guys through her music, so she doesn’t realize how hard it is for me, and now…” she trailed off.

“And now everyone thinks you aren’t into them anyway,” Andy finished for her, and watched as Cassidy nodded miserably. “Is that why you were uncomfortable with me coming around this morning?”

“They’re just stupid,” Cassidy said, “like I’d want to look at them changing anyway, especially if I was going out with you.”

Andy sighed internally and hoped Cassidy had enough sense not to try and prove just how straight she was, and then came back to something she’d wanted to ask, “what did you mean about your mom’s reputation, how does that affect you?”

“Well if we really had been seeing each other, would you want her to find out?” Cassidy replied.

Andy flinched, remembering how bad she’d been when she didn’t believe it and nodded, “point taken,” she said.

“Yeah, being taken home to meet my mother really doesn’t feature on the to do list of… oh anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Come on Cassidy, don’t talk about her like that, you know she’d do anything to see you both happy.”

“I know, and I love her, I do… it’s just, apart from me and Caroline, she really doesn’t know how to treat anyone who isn’t an employee, and you remember how she treats them.”

Andy desperately wanted to stick up for Miranda, but Cassidy was right, at least if you didn’t count those superficial gatherings were everyone pretended they were each others friend, usually while simultaneously stabbing each other in the back. “Well she’s friends with me,” she finally said.

“Yeah… apparently so” Cassidy agreed, giving her a puzzled look, “which is kinda weird, but since you’re friends with everyone —”

“Not true,” Andy interrupted, “besides, you really should give your mother a chance. Her employees treat her like some kind of deity to her face, so it’s hardly any wonder that she acts like one, but even most of them are looking for chinks in her armor behind her back. Everyone wants things from her, or thinks that because she is in the position she’s in, that they have the right to know everything about her, and then to condemn her as a bad boss, a bad wife, a bad mother, without knowing the whole story. Do you think she’s a bad mother?”

Cassidy gave the question genuine thought, then said quietly, “no. She always gave us the best, made sure there was someone around and gave us as much of her own time as she possibly could. We always knew we were loved, and I know we always complained it was never enough, but in the end, she was a working single mother. If she hadn’t been in the position she was in, our lives would have been an awful lot worse.”

Andy, who despite of her defense of her the day before, had never actually thought of Miranda in that light, nodded. Even with two parents, their jobs sometimes meant that she and Jill had occasionally come back to an empty house, and in high school, her friend Jenna had been the proverbial latch key kid. Miranda may not have been home a lot, but she always made sure that the girls were picked up, and that someone was with them.

Then Andy suddenly remembered the occasion she thought she was going to be fired, because she couldn’t get Miranda back through a storm for the girls recital. At the time she’d merely thought it was another impossible whim of the editor’s, but Miranda had promised her daughters she would be there. Now Andy could only think of Cass and Caro’s faces, looking out into the crowd of parents and not being able to find their mother. Maybe, she thought, she was just as guilty of misjudging Miranda as anyone. This time round, she decided, she’d look for the woman under the image, both the one she projected, and the one she had projected on to her. 


	5. Chapter 5

It was Tuesday evening when Miranda saw the twins again, surprising them in their room and taking them out for dinner. They were effectively trapped, therefore, when she said, “darlings, I want to hear in your own words, how you and Andréa became friends. From the beginning please.”

Caroline sighed, truth be told, she was surprised her mother had been able to wait this long. “Are you going to tell us about you and Andy as well?” she asked, trying to stall.

Miranda pursed her lips, she disliked being put on the spot, but, she acknowledged, that was precisely what she was doing to her daughters, “very well” she agreed.

The twins looked surprised, took a moment to communicate silently with each other, and then Cassidy shrugged. Caroline turned back to her mother and began, “The year of…” she stopped, since it had always been an unspoken rule that no-one mentioned Paris. “The year you and Stephen got a divorce” she began again, “We got into a fight at school with Jessica Connelly and some others. You were at a photo shoot in New Mexico, dad was in L.A., and the school office still had Andy’s home number, so they called her.”

“Why am I only finding out about this now?” Miranda asked calculating quickly, she remembered that ghastly shoot, it had only been three weeks, four at most, after Paris, nothing was right, Andréa was gone, and in the end she’d just left Nigel to it.

The twins looked at each other, finally Cassidy said, “Andy may have implied she’d tell you when you got back, so the school didn’t need to bother, but please don’t get mad at her. We were just going through a lot of stuff and needed someone to talk to.”

Miranda winced internally, she had heard the girls say the word before of course, but now she knew why and wondered how many times during this conversation, she was going to have to endure it, “and you couldn’t talk to me? I am always here for you, even if it’s at the end of a phone, you know that. Besides, as I recall, I was only away for 2 days.”

“We know mum, but you always thought we were too young to understand, so you’d never let us talk about the divorce and we knew you didn’t want to talk about it — and we understand that, we really do,” Caroline added hastily, “but when Andy came to the school that day, she told us about violence never solving anything, and how disappointed you’d both be, but then she took us out for ice-cream and asked us how we were doing. She listened, she asked questions, she just knew the right thing to say and when Roy came to pick us up, she gave us her new cell number, and told us to call her if we ever wanted to talk, or just vent or whatever.”

“And at first we didn’t” Cassidy butted in again, “we thought she was just saying it to get back in to your good graces.” Then leaving out the prank calls they’d made at odd hours of the night, she continued, “but then we figured she’d always helped us with our assignments before, so we’d call her with a question and she’d help — ”

“Not do it for us” Caroline cut in, “just give us pointers and stuff.”

“Yeah” Cassidy said, “then she’d sometimes tell us of a book, or an exhibition she thought we’d like. Or if we needed to rant, she’d just listen, and then one day I had a gymnastics meet that neither you or dad could get to, so we asked Andy and she came, and it… it kind of went on from there…”

Miranda didn’t speak for a moment, for the second time in three days she felt like an intruder in her own daughters lives. It was not, she decided, a sensation she enjoyed. Something niggled at the back of her mind, what was it, ah, “and Roy knew about this?”

“Mum, we were 12, we weren’t allowed to go anywhere on our own.”

“Cassidy, a straight forward yes or no will suffice, does Roy know you are meeting Andréa?”

“Well… uh… I don’t know if he still knows” Cassidy hedged, “we rarely see him now.” She knew by the compressed silence that her mother had pursed her lips without looking up from her plate, “yes he knew, of course he knew” Cassidy finally said, “but mum, please don’t fire him or anything, he did what we asked.”

“You asked him not to say anything?”

“No, of course we didn’t but —”

“That’s what I thought, thank you girls for this most enlightening talk. Now, while we are here, is there anything else that either of you would like to tell me?”

“No” Cassidy said quickly, “but you said you’d tell us about you and Andy.”

Caroline looked up and nodded quickly, “yes mum, why didn’t you tell us? You banned her name from the house!”

“That I wanted no mention of that painful betrayal from someone I —” she began sharply, before stopping. The girls already knew how badly she had taken it, and she was supposed to be inventing a plausible relationship after all. She took a breath and counted to five while her daughters looked on, and when she was sufficiently calm she began again.

#~~~#

“Your office number’s still the same,” Andy said, somewhat surprised when the old unlisted line was answered the following morning. She’d called it since she hadn’t been able to reach her on her cell, and she could practically hear Miranda rolling her eyes at the other end of the phone.

“Obviously” Miranda said, biting back the inquiry in to who else she was expecting to answer it, and pursing her lips as she saw what purported to be the front cover of this month’s Auto Universe. “It hasn’t changed in over a decade Andréa, and I had it rerouted when I moved, despite the protests from HR.”

“Why would they protest?” Andy asked curiously.

“Apparently the blocked number list for it, is longer than the internal phone directory for the entire building. I have been informed that changing it would entail considerably less work for them.”

“I bet whoever said that regretted it,” Andy chuckled.

“You are quite correct” Miranda agreed, “In any case, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but the fact that you neglected to call and tell me you’ve been seeing my daughters, since a month after walking out on me, is all down to you and not to technology.”

“Ah, they told you.”

“As I recall, you told me Andréa. I merely had to establish a more concrete time line. Is there anyone else that you’ve been keeping a secret from me?”

“Miranda, until the other day we hadn’t spoken since Paris, and I had no reason to believe you would want to. So I can’t possibly have been keeping secrets from you.”

“Why is it, that neither you, nor my daughters, appear to be able to answer a perfectly straightforward question?”

Andy thought quickly, “what you mean is, you know Roy knows about my friendship with the twins, and you want to know who else does.”

“I did say you had never been stupid.”

“Thanks, but first you have to promise me that there will be no comeback on anyone but me. Roy was only doing what the twins and I asked him to do, and he’s not stupid enough to tell you something he knows will get him fired. He also happens to be a very good driver Miranda, he’s discreet and whether you like it or not, he has always looked out for your welfare.”

“All of which I already know, which is why he is still in my employ.” Miranda sighed, “I really don’t wish to do this over the phone, but I have no time this week for anything but — ”

“Miranda, I know” Andy said quietly, “I really just called to see if you got the flowers?”

“Of course I did, I…” she hadn’t called. She had meant to call and thank her, how could she have forgotten that? “I meant to call and —”

“It’s fine Miranda” Andy cut her off, “tell me, did Nigel see them?”

“He brought up the coffee you so thoughtfully sent with them” Miranda replied, frowning at the odd question.

“Good. I knew Jacob would call him and say he was coming over. So operation con our friends and the entire AP has moved another step forward then. As long as you still want to go ahead with it that is?”

Miranda’s grip tightened on the phone. Her posture stiffened, and she didn’t understand how she could feel so disoriented while still sitting at her desk. She blinked rapidly, but it didn’t help as a myriad of thoughts raced through her mind. Chief among these, that Andréa had apparently not forgotten that it was all an act, even if she, herself, was having trouble remembering it. Still, she had this to cling on to now, should she ever forget again. Andréa had sent her flowers so that the delivery boy would call Nigel, and Nigel would wonder why Andréa was sending her flowers. “Of course I want to go ahead with it, and I imagine he thought they were an apology for appearing on Page Six with my daughter,” she said sharply, still feeling like she’d been hit by a 2 by 4.

“Possibly, but that’s only the first step. I’m seeing him tonight and he might ask” Andy replied, cheerfully oblivious to the turmoil she had caused at the other end of the line.

“Ah, another secret you’ve kept from me, does he know you see the twins?”

“He may have known that I’ve seen them from time to time” Andy hedged, “but — ”

“And Emily? Do you see her as well?”

Andy took a breath and let it out quietly before saying “I’d have stayed in touch with you too Miranda, if I thought it would have been welcome.”

Miranda, knowing full well that she would not have been civil in her anger when the woman had first left, and that her pride would have prevented her thereafter, kept quiet for a moment as she regained her wits, then changed the subject. “I told the girls,” she said.

“You told them, what exactly?”

“That you’d apologized” Miranda replied eventually, “a few months after Paris. I couldn’t have made it before that, they know how… furious I was. I said that you’d finally got up the nerve to apologize, and that after that we stayed in touch occasionally, that it became more frequent as time went on.”

“You didn’t say anything about our —” Andy stopped dead, uncertain of the right way to put it, “about the nature of our so called relationship?”

“I take back my certainty in your intelligence,” Miranda snapped, “even were we in an actual relationship, I would not go around discussing it with my children at the first opportunity.”

“No, of course not” Andy said, wincing at the tone, and wondering how the conversation had gone downhill so quickly.

“We will simply let them get used to us both being friends first, and then we will move on to other things,” Miranda added more calmly.

“OK. So I apologized and we started meeting up. I can go with that.” Andy waited, but there was only silence, “Miranda?” she said, wondering if they’d some how been disconnected.

Eventually she heard, “you haven’t ever said it you know.”

Andy briefly shut her eyes and realized she’d walked right into that one, “that’s because I’m not sorry I did it Miranda” she finally said, then added, “I am however, very sorry about the way I did it. It was unprofessional in the extreme to have left you like that, especially with Ste…, well, anyway, that I do apologize for, and giving me a reference was very gracious of you. I didn’t expect it, but I was, and am, grateful for it.” Again there was static on the other end of the line. “Well, I should be getting back to work” Andy said, breaking the now uncomfortable silence, “let me know if you have the time and the inclination to go and see that movie. I’d like to see it, so if you don’t I’ll go on my own, it’s only on for a couple of weeks.”

“I will call you on Friday evening” Miranda finally replied, “I’ll know my schedule for next week better by then,” she hesitated, Andréa had only been following her instructions in all this after all, and it had been such a long time since she had done anything that frivolous. Even when Stephen was courting her, they did nothing but go out for the occasional meal. Did she even have the time? “I would like to go,” she admitted, then “and Andréa…”

“Yes?”

She would not, she decided, add pettiness to her list of crimes, “thank you for the flowers, they were beautiful.”

“It was my pleasure Miranda. I hope you do manage to find an evening free next week. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Miranda said and then stared at the phone as if it had just come alive in her hand. She didn’t say goodbye… but then, she mused, Andréa wasn’t an employee any longer and she could hardly finish with her trademark, ‘that’s all’.

In the hallway of the Mirror, Andy was also staring at her phone, unsure what had shocked her more, that Miranda had said goodbye? That she’d finally thanked her for the flowers? That strange as it seemed, she genuinely hoped Miranda found a free evening?

She made her way back to her desk still thinking of Miranda, a smile on her face. Then her thoughts turned to the problems of a different Priestly. She frowned as she remembered the idea she’d had on her way in to work, when she’d been wondering what Miranda would do about the situation; and while she didn’t intend to go that far, she had come up with another solution. She logged on to her laptop and tried to remember her facebook password. When she finally got in, she clicked on Cassidy’s photos. Eventually finding what she was looking for, she printed the image and silently thanked whoever invented photo tagging.

#~~~#

Nigel was sipping something chemical looking and eying the nearby talent over the rim of the glass, when she walked up to the table that evening and sat down, “so Buffy” he said, “what’s new in your world?”

It took a few moments for the reference to drop, “I’m not a slayer, and she’s definitely not a vampire, Nigel” she finally said.

“Says you,” he replied, “I know a few designers who wouldn’t take bets on that. Should I be checking your neck, or are you going to be daring and have a bloody Mary instead of your normal G&T, miss now not so boring?” he asked as he pushed a drink over,

“No, No, and thanks,” Andy replied, taking up the glass and sipping the contents, before she rested her forehead briefly against it’s cool surface.

“Well, perhaps you’re more Willow than Buffy anyway,” Nigel continued when she finally put the glass down again, “how’s your love life?”

Andy groaned and rested her forehead on the table, “I hate photographers” she mumbled at the floor.

Nigel raised an eyebrow at the apparent admission, “so it’s true?” he asked.

Andy’s head shot up, “of course it’s not true! She’s barely 18 Nigel, how can anyone possibly think it’s true?”

“Oh well, May / December relationships and all that. More to the point, why are you still walking, talking, and presumably gainfully employed?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, knowing exactly where this was going.

“Well the dear dragon did love your flowers” he admitted, “but even so —”

“Miranda is well aware that nothing is going on between me and Cassidy” Andy cut in, “unlike the rest of the world. Really Nigel how could you possibly think that —”

“Darling, how could I not? You’ve always had a rather unhealthy obsession with La Priestley, after all.”

“I have not!”

Nigel, who had taken off his glasses to clean them, peered at her myopically, “have too” he replied. “She is the first person you ask after, every time we meet, and do you know of anyone else who begged me to create miracles on her wardrobe, just to impress the woman who ordered her about for twenty three and a half hours a day?”

“I was trying to be professional” Andy replied coloring, “and what’s that got to do with Cassidy?”

“Well there, I admit you have me,” he said as he put his glasses back on, “so what really happened?”

Andy shrugged, “she’d gone to a club with some supposed friends, and I’m sure you remember how bitchy teenage girls can be. Anyway, she was upset and wanted to stay at mine, because she didn’t want to run into any of them going back to Barnard, so I went to pick her up. End of story.”

“Ouch, sucks to be the knight in shining armor then.”

“You have no idea,” Andy replied and picked her drink back up. Lifting it to her mouth she saw familiar figures over Nigel’s shoulder and groaned, “tell me you didn’t” she said.

Nigel turned and waved them over, “are you kidding, she’s been hounding me for news since it broke,” he said as he turned back, “she’d be rabid if she found out I was seeing you and she hadn’t been invited. You know, I think she actually cares for you in some twisted, British, sort of way.”

“Andy!” Serena said warmly as she reached the table and gave her a hug, “how are you?”

“What do you mean, how is she?” Emily cut in, “making all our lives a misery again, that’s how she is!”

“Nice to see you too Em!” Andy said, then smiled at Serena, wondering again how she put up with the caustic Brit, but then again, Emily could be kind hearted when she wanted to be, she just had a problem showing it.

Emily sat down while Serena went to get them some drinks, “I knew it! Just couldn’t stay away from her could you,” she said, “although what possessed you to start seeing one of the devil sp—”

“Whoa, stop right there!” Andy interrupted sharply, and Emily, shocked at the tone, did so. “First, as I have already told Nigel, there is nothing going on between me and Cassidy. Second, yes I care about the twins, and I will not allow anyone to call them names, or disparage them in any way in front of me. Do I make myself clear!”

Emily nodded, and said rather huffily, “I’m surprised to see you’re still alive at any rate.”

“Well Miranda did talk about hit men on Sunday,” Andy grinned, “but so far it looks like she was kidding.”

Nigel looked around in a slight panic, “Darling, the dragon doesn’t kid.”

“Relax Nigel, I hardly think anyone’s going to take me out in a packed bar. So how has she been at work anyway?”

“As far as I know, surprisingly like herself considering it’s the talk of the building.” Emily acknowledged, “Judith of course is cackling with glee over every salacious tidbit. Apparently, she even had the nerve to ask Cerberus about it when she bumped into her yesterday, which must rank in the top 5 stupidest things she’s done since becoming editor.”

“Cerberus?” Andy asked puzzled.

Emily’s eyes widened, “I meant Glenys.”

Andy still looked puzzled, “Glenys Baxter” Nigel clarified, “Miranda’s first assistant.”

“Wait, wasn’t she Mr Ravitz’s Secretary?” Andy asked, “What’s she still doing there?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Emily replied, “I have no clue why Miranda didn’t fire her. I mean she has even less dress sense than you do, and works 9 ‘til 5 and not a minute longer either way. She doesn’t go to any of the functions of course, God, can you imagine? That’s why Miranda still has a second assistant.”

Andy grinned,“and to get coffee and run around for 23 1/2 hours a day,” she remembered the rumors about Glenys from when she was there, and her coffee habit was almost as legendary as Miranda’s.

Emily rolled her eyes, “Miranda’s been through a dozen at least who couldn’t even get that right!”

Andy nodded, that explained why they’d moaned about a different one every time they met her, she just hadn’t realized they were all second assistants. Taking a sip of her drink, she grinned into the glass. She’d have liked to have been a fly on the wall when Glenys found out who her new boss was, and when the two of them had a conversation on exactly who was the boss; since it was a well known fact that the only reason Irv had stayed in power so long, was the iron efficiency with which Glenys had run his office, and the Stasi like way she had of finding out absolutely every piece of gossip in the building. Cerberus. She imagined Glenys would be very good at guarding the gates of Hell, actually, now she thought about, most people probably thought she was.

When she came back to the conversation, Nigel and Emily were still talking about work, “…and I don’t think she’ll ever forgive Miranda for not approving the Caribbean shoot last month.”

“Are you surprised? You’re head of the art department Emily, what on earth possessed you to —”

“You think I had any say in that travesty?” She said, cutting Nigel off mid flow, “I worked my behind off for that shoot and she comes along at the last minute, and says she has it on good authority that acid wash is going to big this year, and to scrap it and go with that. Acid wash, I ask you! The woman is losing it big time, I’m not surprised Miranda pulled it before it cost us any more money, and when I think of…” Serena put the drinks down while Emily was still talking and sat on the stool next to Andy. They looked at each other and grinned, knowing this rant could go on for sometime, and Andy for one, was relieved to be out of the spotlight.

#~~~#

Coming up from the subway a few hours later, Andy reflected that despite her earlier worries, it had been a pleasant evening. At least when they’d got over their desire to find out all the gossip about her and Cassidy, and Jacob had arrived to distract Nigel. What she’d told them was near enough to the truth anyway, and as long as no-one found out about the drugs, everything would be fine. Though she shuddered to think of the fallout when Miranda’s plan succeeded.

Turning the corner she saw a commotion up ahead, and getting nearer, recognized Mr Anderson shouting at a man dressed in chef’s whites, who was standing with his back to her and holding himself very still. He turned his head her way, and she realized it was Dennis, which meant her neighbor was having one of his episodes again. Speeding up, she reached them as she realized the situation was quickly spiraling out of control, “Mr Anderson,” she said, bringing the old man’s attention to herself.

He stopped ranting for a moment and looked at her, “Andy?” he said eventually, “what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you” she replied taking his arm, “come on, lets get you home to bed. Tommy will be home in a few days and you want to be ready for that.”

“My boy’s coming home?” he said looking between her and the man in white.

“Yes he is” she replied, knowing from previous experience that he would remember none of this in the morning, and continued to keep talking quietly and calmly to him as they turned and started to walk slowly down the street.

“Thanks Andy,” Dennis called after her and she turned her head and smiled. Dennis Ngo had been great friends with Nate and they had often eaten at his place since it was so near home. But not everybody loved Vietnamese food, or the people who cooked it, and Mr Anderson, who’s Alzheimer’s had been getting progressively worse since his wife died two years ago, and who had lost his only son in the Vietnam war, was a case in point.

On reaching their building, she took took the old man upstairs and settled him down for the night, before returning to her own place. She’d start researching for a piece on care provision for Alzheimer's sufferers in the city in the morning. Maybe she could bring all three proposals up with Greg, at the features meeting on Friday.


	6. Chapter 6

Thursday dawned early for Andy, who awoke in the still, dark, of the morning, as the last vestiges of a dream chased out of her head and left her feeling unsettled. She got up and made herself coffee, then logged on to her laptop and skimmed the news sites, only to find that the New York Daily News had got hold of a picture of her and Cassidy in Starbucks, her hand on Cass’s chin, that had to have been taken on someone’s smart phone.

She looked at the clock, thought twice about calling, then picked up her cell anyway, found the number, and hit dial.

“Ryan, it’s Andy Sachs” she said, “yeah, I’m sorry about the time. Can you meet me at Veselka as soon as?” She waited for his reply, then said “thanks,” and hung up. She looked again at her cell, no messages, which meant hopefully Miranda was still asleep.

She got dressed, grabbed her keys, wallet and the photo she had printed the day before, and left the apartment. Two minutes later she was back for Nate’s old baseball cap, that he’d left behind when he’d moved out.

Half an hour later she was sitting in the almost deserted 24 hour diner, as far from the windows as possible. She’d ordered two coffees, a plain bagel with butter and Challah French toast, and was hiding behind a paper she’d picked up on the way, wondering again if this was a good idea.

Ryan was a nice guy. He’d come to the paper for work about 4 years ago, and done a few things freelance, but there had been no room for him on permanent staff. She’d called him with an occasional offer of work when she could since then, and got him the odd photo credit with other papers when she’d heard they needed someone, but nothing like this.

The chair opposite scraped the floor just as breakfast arrived, and she saw Ryan’s eyes lit up as the Challah was put down in front of him, and become slightly less disgruntled at the ungodly hour.

She folded the paper and put it aside but Andy knew better than to say anything until they were on their second coffees, then she said quietly, “I need a favor.”

“I got that from the time, the meeting place, and since when were you a Yankees fan?… Plus,” he shrugged, “page six is required reading for someone as far in the dregs of their profession as I appear to be.”

Andy pulled at the peak of the cap nervously, and worried her bottom lip.

“What is it Andy?” he asked, then when she still said nothing he said, “hey, I may not have much, but I am trying to keep my integrity. At least tell me the problem, and maybe I can help.”

Andy sighed, “I need you to take pictures of someone for me,” she said.

He looked unsurprised, “OK. You want to give me some details? ”

She fished the piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolded it. “His name is Josh Baines, he’s a junior at Columbia Law.”

“And?” Ryan said, looking at the photo, then up at her.

“I think he’s selling pills, I just need some photo’s of him doing it, and I need them fast.”

This time he did look surprised, but all he said was, “any idea where he hangs out?”

“Definitely Avenue, where else is anyone’s guess, I’m afraid you’ll have to do a bit of digging.”

Ryan pocketed the photo and nodded, “I’m on it,” he said.

“Thanks,” Andy said, “I owe you.”

Ryan grinned, “no problem,” he said and went back to his breakfast.

#~~~#

Her cell beeped before she’d left the diner, and Andy knew who it was. There were very few people after all, who were likely to be up and texting her at 5 o’clock in the morning.

It wasn’t the only one she got that day either. The photo appeared to have signaled the start of a free for all in the papers. Most of them had to settle for gossip column or op-ed pieces in their later editions, a few of which carried quotes from Cassidy’s classmates, and every one of which mentioned Miranda, who texted her links for them all. She had also forbidden Andy to see Cassidy on her own again, until they had discussed it. Since that call had coincided with her entering the office at 7.30am, Andy had backed out again rapidly, as Karen, the only other person in that early, had clearly been startled into thinking they were about to be invaded by stormtroopers. Andy had tried to explain to Miranda that it was better to just appear normal, but this time Miranda was adamant.

It carried on into Friday, when The New Yorker, Andy’s own personal bible of journalistic excellence, stymied in print by appearing on a Monday, had climbed on the bandwagon with it’s Internet daily cartoon on Friday morning. A young woman, she supposed was her, was sitting on a park bench, puzzling over a crossword. She had a speech bubble that read “Woman Hitler - Anagram?” A harassed looking man walking by had turned and replied “Mother in law.” A caricature of Miranda and the twins could be seen walking a pet dragon instead of Patricia, moving towards her from the opposite direction. Miranda had not been amused and Andy, annoyed on her behalf, once again wondered about the woman behind the public image.

When Miranda had therefore suggested she come to the townhouse on Friday night, so that they could discuss it, she had readily agreed.

#~~~#

Knocking on the door however, she couldn’t help but wonder if the neighbors were watching, and was relieved when Miranda answered it quickly and let her inside.

She followed Miranda past the stairs, glancing up and blanching at the memory of the only time she had climbed them. Then a feeling of enormous relief came over her, that she would never again have to witness Miranda apologizing to Stephen. They passed the chair where Miranda had once waited for the book and entered a larger, more formal sitting room. Andy sat nervously on the couch while Miranda poured her a glass of wine, and taking it, said “thank you.” Waiting in silence for the other woman to begin, she glanced around the room. There were several photo’s of the twins, but the room itself was largely impersonal, and she couldn’t decide whether it was just one that wasn’t used very often, or was kept exclusively for meeting with people Miranda wished to keep at arms length. That thought made her hope for the former, but suspect the later.

Miranda meanwhile had taken her own glass and sat on the chair opposite, staring unfocused at the bookcase off to the side. Andy was startled then when she asked, “how is Cassidy?”

“She’s holding up, I think” Andy replied, surprised at the question, “I haven’t seen her since Monday when some of the girls she trains with were giving her a hard time, but when I called to see how she was yesterday afternoon, she said they seemed to have backed off. Mainly, I think, because most people are treating her as if nothing has happened. Fortunately, that latest photo doesn’t appear to have changed that.” Andy didn’t add that most of Cass’s training mates had been under the impression until this, that she was a no-fun workaholic. Mainly from their second-hand knowledge of her mother, and the fact that Cassidy was not as easily able to relax in company as her twin. Nor did she mention, that her daughter had even had one or two invites out of the situation, which Andy though would do her the world of good.

Miranda, who had spoken to both the twins on Wednesday evening, frowned, “so the picture yesterday?”

“Was from Monday. I can only assume whoever took it, took that long to negotiate a deal with the paper. They may have even have offered it to The Post as well, to rack up the price. Welcome to the age of technology Miranda, nothing is private anymore,” she finished bitterly.

I think it’s you that may have only just found that out Andréa. Believe me, I have known it for years,” Miranda replied.

The silence stretched again, until Andy said, “are you really sure you want to do this? The feeding frenzy will be so much worse with you, and it could end up damaging your reputation permanently.”

“Do enlighten me if you have thought of another way to get Cassidy out of the spotlight,” Miranda replied. Andy stayed silent and Miranda continued, “no. Short of filing lawsuits, I haven’t been able to either, and Max tells me that that will only make matters worse, especially now she is no longer a minor.” She paused and eyed Andy from over the top of her glass. “It is not only my reputation that we need be concerned with anyway, I’m sure yours is suffering already.”

Andy tried not to be surprised that Miranda had even thought about that, after all, she was attempting to view the woman with a totally open mind. “I don’t really know,” she replied, “my colleagues are behaving a little oddly, but they’re journalists so that’s only to be expected. We had a features meeting this morning, and Greg told me point blank that it wasn’t the sort of thing we covered so no-one would be asking, but I don’t think he’s happy about it. I’m supposed to be writing about the news, not being it after all.” She looked at the woman sitting opposite her, then shook her head “it’s nothing I can’t handle Miranda, and as you said, Cassidy is more important. My friends are still talking to me, and the news hasn’t reached Ohio yet, so I’ll be fine.”

“And when our supposed relationship comes to light?” Andy really didn’t want to think that far forward, especially not where her family was concerned, and some of this must have showed on her face as Miranda continued, “if you wish to back out —”

“No” Andy said quickly, “I said I’d do it, and I will. Honestly, I’m really not comfortable with everyone thinking I’m dating a teenager. It will be a relief when they think I’m seeing someone else.”

“Even if that someone is me?” Miranda asked, unable to forget that the age gap between herself and Andréa, was even larger than the one between the reporter and her daughter.

“Even then” Andy replied, watching the elegant woman sitting opposite her break eye contact and look down. Instantly hating every person and newspaper article that had made her, so assured in a business setting, second guess everything when it came to her personal life. The silence stretched, “um, perhaps we should get to know each other a little,” she suggested and watched as Miranda’s right eyebrow rose.

“I haven’t changed Andréa” she said, more confident again, “and you used to be able to anticipate my needs almost perfectly.”

“Maybe, but we haven’t seen each other for six years and we’ll at least need to at least flesh out our own backstory…” she thought for a moment, “what did you do last Christmas?”

“We went to London,” Miranda replied, “is this really necessary?”

“Miranda we’ll have to fool the twins, and while they do mention stuff, I’m sure there’ll be things I’d be expected to know that haven’t come up in conversation with them. So, did you stay with family?”

“I imagine they told you we stayed at the town house there,” Miranda said, pursing her lips.

Andy sighed, “I know you don’t see the point of this, but there’s things, that as a couple, we should know about each other. I mean, what did I get you for your birthday last year?”

“I hardly think anyone is going to question you on your lack of present now,” Miranda replied sarcastically.

“Fine, what’s your favorite alcoholic drink?”

“You know I don’t drink at those events”.

“I do, but that’s not what I asked. How do I take my coffee?”

Miranda opened her mouth to reply, and then realized that she didn’t actually know. When it became obvious that Andréa was not going to help her out, she conceded the point, “very well, how do you take your coffee?”

“The same way you do, I just let it get to a manageable temperature before I drink it,” she replied, then relented, “given your reputation, nobody is going to expect you to know things about me, but I’ve got to appear to know more than I did as your assistant if this is going to work.”

Miranda shut her eyes as she sipped at her wine, was her reputation really so bad? Realizing that this was about to become a very long and very unproductive evening, she sighed and opening them said, “very well. Then perhaps we should order some dinner, and then you can tell me what you need to know about me, and what you think I should know about you. We may as well start with your favorite food.”

#~~~#

Miranda had, unfortunately, vetoed both grilled cheese sandwiches and Pizza. Dinner however, had still been delicious. Then again, Andy thought, it ought to have been, given that the chef had 2 Michelin stars and didn’t normally do take out. The wine was excellent too. Being back in Miranda’s sphere might have some advantages after all, provided she stayed sane long enough to enjoy them.

It had come as no surprise whatsoever that she knew far more about Miranda, than Miranda knew about her. It did come as much more of a shock, to realize that she knew far more about Miranda than she had ever done about Nate. Her signature perfume for example, created exclusively for her by Chanel, was elegant and intense, yet with a duskiness that had always suggested to Andy, both power and pleasure. In the years she’d been away from runway, even the vaguest hint of similarity had made her eyes scan the surrounding area the moment it hit her nose and caused a familiar rush in her chest. She knew she could list most of the individually layered notes perfectly even now, despite never having seen what was in it; though she could never even remember the smell of Nate’s aftershave, when she wanted to buy him a gift.

Sure she knew where he grew up; that he had a brother; and a scar on his left leg just below the knee, from falling out of a tree when he was eleven; but she knew those sorts of things about Lily too. She knew none of those things about Miranda, and was unlikely to anytime soon, if her expression had been anything to go by, when she’d asked about her past. But Andy didn’t think even the twins could anticipate their mother’s mood; knew as much about her likes and dislikes, the little things that helped her get through the day, as she still did, and after a six year separation, she couldn’t help but feel a little worried by that.

She finished informing Miranda about her family over coffee, unable to tell from her expression whether the woman was actually taking any of it in, or running over her schedule for the next week in her head. She hoped that they would never meet anyway, her mother especially, having some decided opinions when it came to employers who “sucked the life” right out of her daughter. Perhaps that was what Nigel had meant the other day, what was it with people who thought Miranda was a vampire?

“So how have we kept our relationship quiet all this time?” She asked, when that topic of conversation seemed to have run dry.

Miranda got up and refilled both of their wine glasses again, “I am an extremely private person” she said, “and most of the press know better than to harass me. Those that don’t, usually have far more famous and less career damaging stories to go after, unless something like this happens.” She paused while she handed Andy back her glass and sat back down, “that said, since we haven’t been seen out in public together, I would suggest that while the twins were still here, you only came over on the weekends they were with their father… and that some of our meetings were in your apartment. Though if anyone actually asks, I find glaring at them in contempt usually works, and if they’re stupid enough to continue, a cutting comment is always useful.”

Andy nodded, “my friends have been concerned that I haven’t been seeing anyone, but I’ve been too busy at work to…” she stopped, wondering why she was telling Miranda this, “well anyway, except for the occasional blind date that was forced on me I haven’t…” she looked down at the glass in her hands, “maybe that’s why they all believed Cass and I were…” she brought the wine up to her mouth and drank, wondering if it was a good idea, since it appeared to be loosening her tongue, more than was probably wise in Miranda’s presence.

Miranda wondered how many of her employees Andréa now counted among her friends, how much she had kept up with Runway in the last few years, how much she had asked them about her. “Since I have no intention of making a trip to Ohio,” she said, “tell me about Douglas and…” she thought for a moment, “Lily.”

Andy grinned, her eyes sparkling at the mention of her friends, “you probably couldn’t tell on Sunday,” she began, “but Doug is one of your biggest fans.” Miranda cocked her head to the side disbelievingly, “no, seriously,” Andy continued. “When I first got the job at Runway, he was the only one who actually knew who you —” she stopped as her brain caught up with her mouth, flushed, cleared her throat and said, “anyway, he’s a corporate research analyst. We met our first semester at Northwestern, he was doing managerial analytics at Kellogg while I was doing journalism. We bonded in a coffee shop one afternoon over our mutual hatred of roommates.” Patricia, who up until this point had been asleep on the floor, lumbered over and put her head on Andy’s lap hopefully, Andy smiled and started to pet her absently. “He was sharing at the time with some guy called Mark or Marcus…something, who was a real sports nut, and used to invite all his friends over whenever there was a game. It drove Doug mental.”

“And yours?” Miranda asked, sipping her wine.

Andy put her almost empty glass carefully on a coaster and slid onto the floor to pet Patricia properly for a moment, before wrapping both arms as far as she could around the St Bernard and hugging her, pressing her face into the side of the dog. It was therefore hidden from view when she said, “Mine was… mine was used to having a closet bigger than our room… come to think of it, she’s going to be green with envy, she probably worshiped Runway.” Andy lifted her head slightly, stretched herself out into a more comfortable position and continued, “fortunately, by the time it came to rooming arrangements for my second year, I’d met Lily. She was majoring in Art History. She now runs a gallery, it’s doing really well.”

“And how did you meet her?” Miranda asked, watching Patricia, since all she could see of her guest was her jean encased legs, her socks, and the strong hands that were running over the now slobbering beast. She leaned forward, her tongue darting out to wet suddenly dry lips. She really would have to give Andréa’s wardrobe a makeover if they were to be seen regularly together. Patricia however, seemed to be enjoying the attention, no-one had done that since well before the twins had left. It reminded Miranda forcefully, that old as she was, the St Bernard still needed to know she was loved beyond the occasional absent minded petting that she gave her. She made a mental note to get Glenys to check with the dog walking service she was using, to make sure they spent some time petting Patricia, beyond the daily grooming and walking that they did. Andréa, she noted, seemed to be making herself quite at home, and for someone that did not like people invading her space, she was surprised at how content she felt about that.

“Lily? Um, I’d just walked out of the women’s center, when this person thrust a leaflet in my face for something ” Andy said, “I can’t remember what it was for now, some petition she wanted me to sign I think. I do remember it was winter, and icy. I swerved to avoid this hand flying at my face and slipped. My arms went out to stop myself and grabbed onto the nearest thing, which happened to be her, and we both went down. It was not an auspicious start.” The story ground to a halt as Andy got lost in remembering, a half smile adorning her mouth when she leaned back against the couch and Miranda could see her properly again. Her clever fingers now gently massaging the muscles of Patricia’s neck, as the dog slumped in contentment. After a few moments she shook her head and continued, “anyway, I apologized. Not entirely sure why since it wasn’t really my fault, and she said, it was too damn cold to be out doing this anyway, her name was Lily by the way, and I could buy her a coffee to make up for it.” She smiled again and shook her head before looking up at her companion, “and the three of us spent most of the next four years in the Unicorn… uh, it’s a coffee shop,” she clarified as she saw her puzzled look, then added “What about you Miranda?”

“Me?”

“Um you know, friends and such?”

“Do I strike you as a particularly friendly sort of person?” Miranda asked in a tone that didn’t encourage Andy to continue with the subject.

“I think you could be,” Andy replied, ignoring the warning in a move she would blame on the wine the following day, “I know you prefer your own company... that you dislike all those parties you have to go to. I’m not surprised since it’s all gossip, back stabbing and oneupmanship… One on one, though? Yeah, I think you’d be a great friend. After all, you’re knowledgeable on a vast array of subjects, so you’d be an interesting conversationalist. They’d be able to trust anything you said, because you don’t pander to peoples egos, or make them feel good just for the sake of it, and you’re fiercely protective of anyone you care about.” Andy shrugged, then looked up at her and grinned lopsidedly, “that sounds like a good friend to have to me.”

Miranda eyed her from over the top of her wine glass, her countenance inscrutable, as she counted off the seconds until a faint flush came over Andréa’s features and she finally looked away, her face dipping into Patricia’s fur once again. Miranda carried on watching as arms once again curled around the soft, warm body of the dog laying in front of her, and wondered why this woman did not have a significant other. Clearly all the men in her life were fools. Then she reminded herself once again that what they were doing was not real. She finished off her wine, stood up, and said more gently than she’d intended, “I think that’s enough getting to know each other, for one night, don’t you?”


	7. Chapter 7

At 4 o’clock the following morning, Andy woke up in a panic with a slight headache and a raging thirst. Miranda had sent her home in a cab, and while she didn’t think she’d said anything too stupid, she really shouldn’t drink around her again. There was however something she knew she had to remember. What was it?

Oh God, Miranda had said she’d go to the movie with her on Tuesday, and dammit, she had nothing to wear. Well, she had clothes, obviously, but she had nothing to wear for that. They may only be going to the movies after all, but jeans and an old sweatshirt really weren’t going to cut it. Especially, said a voice in her head, as she was going out with the queen of fashion, and there was no way she’d live down showing her up in any way. Although she ruthlessly quashed the one that said this was also a date and she wanted to look good, since it sounded far too much like Nigel.

Unable to get back to sleep, she downed two glasses of water, then made herself some coffee and set to work on her Medicaid article, as her editor wanted the first draft by the next meeting.

At 4.30 she wondered if it was too early to call people, and decided if she ever wanted them to talk to her again, it definitely was. She went back to working on her article.

By 5.30 she’d snapped out of a trance she’d been in and decided she probably shouldn’t call at all, they’d only think she was trying to dress up for Cassidy, and if Miranda found out all hell would break lose.

By 6.30 she was cursing the fact that most consignment and vintage stores didn’t put their stock online. She knew this was because the turnover was so rapid, but that really wasn’t helping at this point.

At 7 o’clock she thought she’d better stop drinking coffee, as her right upper eyelid was starting to twitch.

By 7.30 she’d showered, dressed and was ready to hit up every store in the city, if it meant she’d find something affordably decent to wear.

By the time she got to the street she’d nixed affordable, or at least gone with decent by Miranda’s standards, which were considerably less affordable, than decent by her own.

She was half way to the subway by the time she remembered that it was only a movie. She stopped, turned back towards home and went by the bakery to get herself bagels, then walked back up to the apartment and forced herself to have breakfast, even as she realized the shops weren’t actually open yet.

When she’d finished, she took a slow walk over to the East Village and doorstepped her favorite consignment store, until the owner came out to walk his dog. She bartered the walking for him looking for something fabulous in her size, and thanked God that some people still remembered her fondly from her Runway days.

When she returned the pooch, said owner handed over a pair of Balmain leather Moto pants that had come in the day before. Andy tried them on and grinned. They may not be what Miranda was expecting, and they were certainly more than anyone in their right mind would call affordable, but she knew she looked damn good in them, and Miranda would not be able to berate her for shopping from a department store clearance bin. Then she bought a black Equipment shirt to go with them and a few other pieces, so she would never have to go through her T-shirt debacle again.

She tried the outfit on again when she got home, pairing it with her Armani wool coat and Valentino boots that she’d bought when she’d been promoted, and bit her lip, trying to work out how Miranda would view the all black ensemble. It might not have been up to the minute fashion, she thought, but at least it was more rock chick than funeral chic. Then she decided that whatever Miranda’s opinion, she had already taken up entirely too much of her brain power for one weekend and called Lily.

#~~~#

Ryan called on Sunday, and told her he had the photos she wanted.

“Already?”

“Your boy’s not exactly discrete,” he replied.

They arranged to meet, and Andy left the apartment, hailed a cab, and took the Manhattan Bridge over to Brooklyn and the gastropub where he was tending the bar.

He slipped the envelope over to her as she ordered a drink. “Thanks,” she said, “what do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, “just throw me a bone when you have a story.”

She looked up and he held her gaze, she nodded in agreement and he smiled and passed her the drink, “cheers,” he said.

After staying an hour or so and relaxing in the congenial atmosphere, Andy went back to her apartment wondering what her next move should be. Looking at the photos she knew she had him, Ryan had definitely gotten the goods and by rights she should take them straight to the cops. The problem was, if she did that she had no leverage, and she didn’t want to provoke the guy into talking out of turn about Cassidy, even if it was just his word against hers. Again she wondered what Miranda would do. She was tempted to call and ask about a hypothetical scenario, but Miranda was far too astute not to be suspicious. She put them to one side while she mulled the problem over in her mind, her thoughts inevitably turning towards Miranda again. She bit her lip as she wondered how Tuesday would go, whether Miranda would like her outfit, and why that mattered, since it wasn’t a date.

#~~~#

Monday went by in a blur, so did most of Tuesday. The picture was on late, and while Andy had gotten home at a reasonable hour, that only meant she was sitting in her apartment ready and waiting to go, long before Miranda got there. Which was ridiculous, because it wasn’t a date. She was just going out with her ex-boss to see a movie. They weren’t even pretending to be on a date, despite the current circumstances they found themselves in.

She glanced at the bottle of vodka on her kitchen shelf, and wondered if she should have just one to settle her nerves. It was vodka, Miranda wouldn’t smell it, right? Still, she thought better of it and got up to check there wasn’t lipstick on her teeth, again. On the way back, she swung her arms in circles, trying to get rid of some of the excess energy that seemed to be circulating in her body. She looked at the clock again, it had hardly moved. Then she remembered she hadn’t eaten since lunch, and that they weren’t eating later. She looked in her fridge, it’s contents looked dubious at best, potentially toxic at worst, God she missed Nate sometimes. She wondered if she had time to call for take out.

Deciding she didn’t, she opened the fridge again and checked the milk was OK, before pulling out a bowl and tipping some cereal into it. Then she took off her shirt in case she spilled anything down it, because that would be just her luck. Cereal in hand, she turned on the TV to give her mind something else to do, flicking the channels, unable to settle on any one thing. Giving up, she found a trashy reality TV program that she had never seen before and that required no brain power. She watched the images flicker past on the screen, as her mind totally switched off. So switched off had she become, that she was actually startled when someone knocked on her door.

“Just a minute!” she yelled, grabbing at her shirt again, throwing it on and trying to make herself look half decent. She ran to the bathroom quickly, checked her face in the mirror, reapplied her lipstick, took a deep breath then let it out slowly, tucking her shirt in before she walked, as calmly as she could, back to the door.

Andy opened it and blinked, Miranda looked stunning. She was wearing a beautifully detailed wrapped body sheath in black silk, though the reporter didn’t know the designer, and a coat she thought was Elie Saab, but could definitely be wrong about. What she did know was that she’d really better start reading Runway again, and that Miranda was more than a little overdressed for the movies, not that she was about to say so.

“Well?” Miranda said.

“You look beautiful,” Andy replied. Miranda pursed her lips, which was not quite the reaction she was expecting. Then she realized she was still blocking the doorway, “oh, um, come on in,” she said, and moved out of the way.

Miranda stayed where she was, “I’m running late. I think we’d better leave,” she said, “if you wish to see the start of the film.”

Andy glanced at the clock on her wall and hurried to get her coat, wondering exactly where the time had gone, and giving Miranda ample opportunity to admire every aspect of her outfit and the way it hugged her body. Andréa was, she admitted, exceptionally aesthetically pleasing, a fact only highlighted by good couture choices, and her short hair, which Miranda had been undecided about when she had first seen it, suited this version of the woman a great deal.

#~~~#

Miranda, who had elected to drive rather than take a cab, pulled into the parking garage and quickly found a space. Getting out of the car and locking it, she was startled to find that Andy had walked round and was offering her hand. She looked at it, then turned away and walked towards the exit stairs.

Andy sighed and went after her. Before they got to the street Andy stopped her and said, “Look, just think of it as… um… a desensitization exercise. Like I said before, if we’re going to pretend we’re a couple, at some stage we’re going to have to make some kind of physical contact. We don’t have to be excessive, since everyone knows you don’t do touching but…” she trailed off as she saw the annoyed expression on Miranda’s face, “what?”

“You were rambling” her companion replied, “and as I said before, I managed three husbands, I’m sure I can manage you.”

“Look Miranda, you knew going into this that I’m a touch-ey kind of person. Those photos of me and Cassidy are more than adequate proof of that, and the reason we’re even here,” Andy pointed out. “I can’t change that, or suddenly stop myself from doing it. Especially if I’m supposed to be in love with you. I mean, would you believe the story of you and me, if there was pictures of me hugging the twins, but only ones of us walking a decorous distance apart, even if you are you?” Thinking she saw the minutest shake of Miranda’s head, she continued calmly, “So, as a trial run, just let me take your arm, or you take my arm. Trust me, we need to get comfortable with this, and it’ll prevent me from suddenly putting it over your shoulders, or round your waist without thinking at one of your events, which I am sure you’ll hate more. Especially if it’s in full view of the press.”

Miranda sighed, unsure exactly when Andréa had apparently turned into the human equivalent of an octopus, then took a deep breath and resolutely reached out and tucked her own arm through the reporter’s.

“Great,” Andy said “and if when we do this for real, you can try not looking like you think I might be contagious while you do it, this might even work,” then she patted the hand resting on her bicep. Miranda visibly startled and Andy caught it as it started to withdraw again. “Breathe Miranda” she said, “remember, we’re comfortable in each other’s presence. We’ve been friends for six years. We’ve been dancing around this for almost as long. Cassidy and Caroline are both intelligent girls, if we can fool them, everyone else will be a piece of cake.”

Andy pushed open the door to the street and as they started off towards the IFC Center, Miranda quashed the strange sensation that had gone through her hand at Andréa’s touch. Wondering again, why exactly she had thought this would be a good idea.

#~~~#

“When the girls said Catherine Deneuve was in the film, I didn’t realize they meant for approximately 5 minutes.” Miranda said, as they walked out of the movie theater later that evening, and decided to find some coffee, before heading back to the car.

“I’m not sure they knew to be honest, I certainly didn’t,” Andy replied, “but it’s an interesting concept don’t you think? Becoming your true self by losing everything you value.”

“It wasn’t his true self Andréa, he was pretending to be someone else,” Miranda replied. “Someone I might add, that he’d killed.”

“I guess, but he did gain his own personal freedom by becoming that other person, and I just find it weird that he hadn’t been himself, lived his life, until then. I just can’t imagine having to pretend I’m someone that I’m not all the time.”

“Then you should consider yourself extremely fortunate, most of the world is not so lucky.”

Andy frowned “But do you need to pretend? The current problem aside, aren’t you living the life you wanted?”

“My life is built on pretense Andréa. How many times would you say I’ve genuinely smiled at all those events I’ve attended? How often did I have to make nice with small minded men like Irv Ravitz?”

“But not now surely? I mean, you’re the head of one of the country’s biggest publishing houses; you’ve two beautiful and bright daughters at college;” without thinking she lightly hooked her own arm through Miranda’s, drawing her in as she grinned and whispered in her ear, “the only pretense is the hot girlfriend.”

Miranda, who had instantly stiffened at the contact, felt the warmth coming from Andréa’s breath on her ear, and involuntarily pulled her closer as she shuddered. Andy felt the contact from her shoulder to her hip, sparking her nerve endings in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time, which surprised her. Then there was a flash to their left. Miranda’s head turned and she pulled away. She saw a man grinning lecherously at her, before he disappeared back into the crowd. “I may not wish to lose everything I value, but anonymity certainly has it’s charms” she said pursing her lips, then continued, “as does the idea of murdering photographers.”

“Agreed” Andy replied, then tentatively slipped her arm back through Miranda’s, pleased that she only stiffened slightly this time and didn’t pull away as they continued down the street, “but think of him as a puppet dancing to the tune you’re playing. As you said, it’s a far juicier story, and we didn’t even attempt to set that up,” she said quietly in Miranda’s ear.

Miranda nodded, knowing that Andréa was right, “we had better tell the girls, I wasn’t expecting this to happen quite so soon. I wanted to prepare them first, and who knows what spin they’ll put on that.”

“Yeah,” Andy agreed, “and I’m still in the twins bad books for not telling them about being friends with you.” Miranda glanced at her but said nothing, and by mutual consent they made their way back to Miranda’s car, before their mother called the girls.

“Mum?”

“Cassidy, I…” It seemed to Andy that Miranda’s jaw, while still working up and down, had suddenly lost the ability to make coherent sounds. She continued watching for several moments until the woman covered the phone with her hand and said, “what do I say?” in as calmly frantic a tone as Andy had ever heard her.

Andy opened her mouth to reply and her mind too went blank, “umm… I guess…uh,” then she gestured for the phone and Miranda gladly handed it over.

“Cass?”

“Andy? Why are you — What’s wrong with mum?”

“Is Caroline there too?”

“Yeah. Andy you’re worrying me, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, we’re both OK, we just need to tell you something.”

“At…” there was rustling and then she continued, “11.30 at night?”

Andy felt like kicking herself, “Sorry it’s so late. We went to see that film with Catherine Deneuve, you remember?”

“Oh, was it good?”

“I thought so, I’m not sure your mother did, but that’s not the point. We, um… we were photographed leaving the movie theater, it’ll probably be in tomorrow’s paper and we er… we wanted to let you know before you see it.”

“So? Mum’s always in the paper,” the voice on the other end said suspiciously,

“Yeah, um… you remember those photos with the two of us, how they misrepresented our relationship.”

“You mean, whatever this photo looks like, it’s not what it seems?”

“Yeah… well no… um, not exactly. I mean, look, just don’t the two of you jump to any conclusions OK, we’ll be over first thing in the morning to explain everything.”

“I have practice at 6.30 Andy, I doubt you’ll be here before then.”

“Oh. Right I forgot, hang on…” she turned, “can you do lunch tomorrow?” Miranda gave a tight nod, “lunch, 1 o’clock at…”.

“Jean-Georges” Miranda said and Andy repeated it back to Cassidy.

There was the sound of a hand muffling the microphone and then “OK, but make it 12, Caroline has to be back by 2 for piano practice.”

“We’ll see you at 12 then. Night Cassidy, we’re sorry if we woke you both.”

“S’okay, night Andy, say night to mum for us.”

Andy ended the call and held out the phone, “they said goodnight,” she said.

“Well that went well,” Miranda muttered, acknowledging what Andy said with a nod and putting the cell phone back in her purse, wishing she had some aspirin with her.

Andy sighed, “you’re sure you still want to go through with this?”

“It’s a little late to change our minds now.”

“I guess, so what are we going to tell the twins?”

“That we’ve kept it quiet because we don’t know what it is yet,” Miranda replied after a long pause, “after all the publicity surrounding my failed marriages, it’s hardly to be expected that I’d want to advertise the fact I’ve taken up with a…a… is there such a thing as a toy-girl?”

Andy snorted, not quite being able to envision the woman sitting next to her as a sugar mama, despite all her obvious qualifications in that regard, “I um… I guess so.”

“In any case, we stick to what we’ve already discussed. We realized a while ago that there might be something between us, and we’ve been spending time with each other to see where it goes. Without the pressure of other people’s opinions. Now that it is, or very soon will be, out in the open so to speak, we are just going to try to weather the storm. Hopefully with their support and with the proviso that neither of them will take sides if it doesn’t work out. A fact that is almost inevitable now that the press have wind of it.”

“Nothing is ever inevitable Miranda.”

Miranda stared out of the front windscreen. “None the less, since this charade cannot continue indefinitely, and I imagine that you do not want to lose the twins anymore than I do, I suggest we are both upfront about our desire for them not to take sides.”

Andy reached out and covered Miranda’s right hand, which was gripping the steering wheel tightly, with one of her own. “You’d never lose your daughters Miranda,” Andy reassured her quietly, “they love you too much.” Miranda looked away, the girls had hated Stephen, so it was inevitable that any perceived fault would eventually be his. With Andréa she wouldn’t put so much as a dime on her own chances with the twins.

Moving her hand, Miranda turned back towards the passenger seat and changed the subject, “the annual fashion benefit at the Met is a few weeks away. I was going to tell you, since I thought it would be an excellent time to… well, now our potential outing appears to have been moved up, I will need you to be there. I have only ever been with my husbands, and for the last few years I’ve gone alone.” Andy’s lips twitched, “you find that funny?” Miranda asked sharply.

“No” Andy replied, “I’ve just never been ordered to go on a date before.”

Miranda sighed, fighting the urge to massage away the pain in her head, “this is hardly a normal relationship, by any stretch of the imagination,” she replied.

“Oh, of that I’m well aware” Andy said, “otherwise we’d be home by now laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, not wondering how we’re going to justify ourselves to a couple of teenagers.”

“I do not intend to justify anything” Miranda said haughtily, “I imagine that of all the relationships I have had, with the possible exception of their father, this is the one they will approve of the most, provided we can get them to believe it. They may however fear for your sanity.”

Andy smiled, resisting the temptation to reach out for Miranda’s hand again, “I’m currently dating the most beautiful woman in New York” she said instead, “I’d say my sanity is just fine. Trust me, we’ll pull this off.” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “everyone wants to be us, right?”

Miranda blinked. Ever since she had taken charge of Runway she had been the most important person in the room and no one, except Irv, had ever disputed that, but it wasn’t until Andréa had become her assistant that she’d actually been made to feel special. Andréa, had always seemed to actually care. The tension in her temples eased a little and she started the car, saying nothing and refusing to think about how that knowledge made her feel. She concentrated instead on reversing them out of the space, and then on driving her companion home.


	8. Chapter 8

It was inevitable, Andy supposed as she looked at her laptop the following morning, that more than one paper would get hold of that photo. It was Miranda Priestly after all, that the photographer was peddling. The price of exclusivity would have been astronomical. The serious papers were circumspect in what they said, most just putting it online, with variations along the theme of “Miranda Priestly and Andrea Sachs enjoy a night out.” Though even Andy had to admit, they appeared to be a little too close at that moment for simple friendship. Apart from their arms being linked and their bodies touching, her lips were millimeters from Miranda’s ear, and since she’d been feeling things she most definitely shouldn’t have been at the time, there was an expression in her eyes that she really hoped no-one else recognized. Even if Miranda’s countenance was as unreadable as ever, she simply didn’t walk that close with anyone.

Which was probably why The New York Daily News had invited its readers to speculate “Is the Queen of Fashion stepping out of the Closet?” and Andy wondered how long they’d been itching to use that particular reference.

Her finger traced Miranda’s form on her screen, and she thought back again to the instant it hit her that Nigel might have been the teeniest bit right. Feeling the press of the woman next to her, despite the layers of clothing between them; the shiver that ran through Miranda, moving Andy’s body as well as her own; the thoughts that had gone through her head in that second, before the camera’s flash had displaced them. She did not, she hoped, have an unhealthy obsession, but, if she was honest, she might have discovered she had the tiniest of crushes on the woman. If she was being brutally honest, she might actually have experienced this feeling for her once before, the first time Miranda had looked at her approvingly, and she’d felt it down to her toes. She groaned, picked up a pillow and buried her head in it. She supposed it might work in their favor with pulling this off, but really? Could it be any more inconvenient? She’d not been out with anyone since Nate, being far too busy getting her career off the ground, so perhaps she was just feeling lonely. Her friends had been telling her for ages she should start seeing someone new, but the men they’d set her up with did absolutely nothing for her at all, and if she started seeing anyone else now, Miranda would kill her. In fact it was not beyond the realms of possibility that she still might. After all, it was her grabbing of Miranda’s arm that had brought this about.

Removing the pillow, she sat up and input the web address for Page Six. They had put the photo of Andy with her arm around Cassidy next to the one of her and Miranda. The caption above read ‘From the Cradle to the Grave’ and the reporter wished she had an actual paper at that moment, since she didn’t feel like smashing up her laptop.

She reached over for her cell phone, and turning it on, was mildly surprised it hadn’t exploded in the night.

She scrolled quickly through all the texts and missed calls. Noting that the only person who hadn’t tried to contact her was Miranda, she sent a text, “are you ok?”

The one word reply was, “fine,” which meant that Miranda definitely wasn’t.

“Ignore it Miranda,” she sent back, “they’re just trying to rile you. Lawsuits sell papers, and you know the pig still resents the fact you turned him down.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Some of us have work to do” came the curt reply.

She stared at it for a minute, then hit dial. Miranda did not pick up. Andy sighed, then looked at the pictures again. Great, now they’d made it look like she was cheating on Cassidy with Miranda. So much for getting the teenager out of the spotlight, and so much for both of their reputations. She turned to more practical matters, “Do you want me to meet you at the restaurant for lunch?” She texted.

“I will send Roy to pick you up,” came the reply.

Andy thought about it, then texted, “I’ll meet you at your office, no point in sending Roy in the wrong direction through traffic.”

“I’m sure he’ll be touched by your concern,” Miranda replied.

Andy rolled her eyes, “are you at least going to have security let me up?” she asked, then waited for a response that didn’t come.

“See you at 11.45 then” Andy texted eventually, feeling extremely sorry for anyone who had to deal with Miranda that morning.

Next she started reading her texts. The most supportive probably being Emily’s, “Assuming she hasn’t already, if you screw this up and hurt her, I will kill you myself!” since Nigel had wisely refrained from commenting on anything apart from her clothes, dubbing them Vampire chic, which at least meant he thought she was presentable enough to be seen with Miranda. Doug advised her to remember to stay away from alleyways and Central Park, and Lily appeared to think she was having a complete mental breakdown. At least she assumed that was what the therapist’s number was for, and Andy briefly considered it, wondering if they could help her get rid of her crush.

Her colleagues at the paper appeared to be divided. Some agreed with Lily, the rest were congratulatory of her increased job prospects, at least if they stayed together. Well, she had told Miranda people would think she was using her for her connections, she just hadn’t expected it to be the people she worked with. She wondered which way she would have viewed it, had it been someone else in the same position. She hoped she would think no-one would be that shallow, and she’d have to talk to Miranda about that, she really didn’t want people blackballing her on Miranda’s behalf when this finally came to an end. Although if Miranda ever actually got comfortable with PDA’s she’d probably have bigger problems to worry about, like her sanity.

This particular photo, apparently hadn’t taken long to reach Ohio either, if her mother’s voice mailed demand that she call her as soon as possible was anything to go by. She ignored it, rolled over, groaned into the pillow again and then got out of bed. She packed her laptop into her work bag; took a shower; got dressed in clothes that would be deemed suitable for dining at a 3 starred Michelin restaurant, and headed into the newspaper, stopping at the bakery on the way for breakfast and her first sideways look of the day. Her second may not actually have been at Starbucks, but it was certainly the next one she noticed, accompanied as it was by the nudge of an elbow into the ribs of sideways look number three. Fabulous.

She stopped counting when she hit double figures in the subway, and by the time she reached the newspaper offices she’d realized there was a very good reason Miranda usually wore sunglass in public. Intellectually, she’d always known it, but it was completely different when you were actually the target.

Given the atmosphere the last time this had happened, she wasn’t expecting great things, and indeed the few people in the office stopped talking when she entered, she sighed and said loudly, “I still have no comment,” then went and sat down and tried to work. Fortunately, she didn’t have to make any phone calls, she just had to do some editing work on her completed, but overly long, Medicaid article. At 11 o’clock she packed up, left the building and took the subway to Elias-Clarke.

First she made a detour to the Starbucks nearby. “Peter, thank God you’re still here!” she said when she got to the front of the queue.

“Andy! Long time no see. Tell me you’re not back working there.”

“Not exactly, but I am going to see her.”

He grinned, “I’ll get right on it.”

“No, that’s OK,” Andy said, and he paused to look at her, “but whoever does the order now, usually gets another coffee as well right?”

“Extra shot, half n half, two sugars” Peter recited, his grin broadening.

Andy’s mouth dropped open in shock, “really!” she said.

“Mhmm. You should see the look on their faces too, they have to whisper it in case anyone overhears.”

“Wow. Get me one of those then will you, and I don’t suppose you know if that’s supposed to be center of the sun hot as well do you?” she asked grabbing the sugar and handing it to him.

“Always is when it leaves here,” Peter replied turning to make it, “course, I’m just a lowly barista, so what would I know about the subject.”

“Seriously, none of them have asked?”

“Andy, have you seen the people she hires these days, none of them would give me the time of day, they’re far too important for that.”

The reporter pulled a battered, thick silver pocket out of her bag, “well, since none of them are more important than Miranda’s coffee, I may be in more often. So I guess I’d better make a couple of new ones of these.”

Peter smiled, “you still have it!”

“Trust me,” Andy said, “I am never going to forget your lecture on the second law of thermodynamics, so,” she nodded at the cup in his hand, “can you stick that inside another cup for me please.”

“Already done,” he said as he put the lid on. Andy put the cup inside the insulated cup holder she’d made under his instruction, while she’d still been Miranda’s assistant, and then waited as Peter got her change, some of which she put in the tips jar.

“You know you’re wasted here,” she said.

“What can I say, coffee is my life,” he replied, “It’s good to see you again Andy.”

She crossed 6th Avenue to her former workplace and stopped by security, who did not waste time getting her a new pass and she grinned, knowing Miranda must have had someone call them . It felt odd, but strangely exhilarating being back here, even if it wasn’t to work. In the elevator she removed the insulated pocket and stowed it back in her bag as she reached the executive offices. On the way past an empty desk she removed the extra cup and put it in the trash, so that it was a perfectly normal, albeit extremely hot cup, when she reached one of the desks outside Miranda’s office and said, “Glenys hi, I don’t think we’ve ever met, I’m Andy Sachs.”

The woman sitting at the desk looked up, “the one who walked out on her in Paris. Yes, I know.”

“Yeah, well, I have apologized for that.” Andy said, not exactly sure why she felt the need to explain, “anyway, I brought you some coffee.” She said, putting it on the desk.

Glenys looked at it for a moment as if it was some kind of trick; then picked it up and took the lid off; then sipped tentatively. “Not bad” she said. Then she looked over at the 2nd assistant, “you could learn a thing or two.”

The phone on the desk started ringing as a voice from the inner office said, “Andréa?”

“Miranda Priestly’s office. No, she doesn’t have any comment,” Glenys said and put the phone down.

Andy turned, “yes Miranda.”

The phone rang again.

The woman herself appeared in the doorway, “Do you find it necessary to schmooze with absolutely everyone you meet?”

Andy fought the temptation to roll her eyes, and contented herself with an amused “yes Miranda.”

“Miranda Priestly’s office,” said the voice by her side.

“Coat, bag” Miranda said turning to the 2nd assistant and held out her hand. Andy bit her lip, it was surprising how little had changed in six years.

“Yes Stacy, I do think you should send that memo out company wide, that’s why I sent it to HR… I’m aware of that, but it never hurts to remind people of their contractual obligations regarding talking with the press...”

Andy followed Miranda back towards the elevator, the door swooshed open and she suddenly had a moment of doubt. Should she get in? Wait for the next one? Run down the stairs? Well the last one was definitely out in these heels, then she noticed Miranda glaring at her and praying it was the right decision, stepped in, just as her companion let go of the door.

“What exactly were you waiting for?” Miranda said, when it was firmly shut, “a gold plated invitation?”

“Sorry,” Andy replied, “you usually ride the elevator alone.”

“And did I miss the announcement of your renewed employment here, or are you in fact, supposed to be my current romantic interest?”

Andy turned, so she was facing Miranda when she said quietly, “today’s been hell for both of us Miranda, please don’t make it any worse.”

The elevator stopped suddenly and the door swooshed open, “shift over a bit,” a male voice said and Andy automatically stepped to one side, allowing the person attempting to enter to receive the full force of Miranda’s glare. He left again quickly, and the door shut to complete silence.

Roy was waiting for them at the entrance. He opened the car door and Miranda got in, “Ms Priestly,” he said. “Miss Sachs,” he continued respectfully as he held the door for her too.

“Roy” Andy acknowledged quietly back, before he shut it behind her and got back into the driver’s seat.

The first five minutes of the journey was excruciating for all of them.

Andy was biting her lip and attempting to give the impression that she didn’t want to say anything, in this she was failing spectacularly. Roy kept glancing at her in his rear view mirror and then his eyes flicked to Miranda, and then back to the road. Finally, when she could stand it no longer, Miranda said, “for goodness sake, get it out of your systems the pair of you. I will not suffer through anymore car rides like this one.”

So the two chatted a little stiltedly, catching up on each other’s news for the rest of the journey, and Miranda made the effort to ignore the hand that had appeared on her arm in the middle of a story her companion was telling. In this, she too failed spectacularly.

#~~~#

Miranda, it turned out, had had the forethought to get someone to book the private dining room for their lunch, as they were walking through the corridor towards it however, Andy’s phone rang. She stopped and looked at the screen, then sighed. Looking up, she found that Miranda had also stopped and turned to look at her. “Sorry,” she said, “I’m really going to have to take this.”

Miranda frowned, then nodded and carried on walking to the door, opening it, she walked through and heard Andréa say “Hi Mom,” as it closed behind her.

“Andy, what’s going on?”

“Nothing as far as I know,” she lied, “why?”

“Jill emailed me a photo of you with that old boss of yours.”

Andy flinched, she really hoped Miranda never heard her mother refer to her that way. “Oh that,” she said casually, “ignore it. The paparazzi got a photo of me and her daughter Cassidy the other day too, and they’re trying to spin it into all sorts of things that it isn’t.

“Like what?”

“It doesn’t matter mom, honestly, it’s the price you pay for knowing someone people find interesting.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes mom, we just went to see a movie. It’s something normal people do all the time. They go with friends, they go with co-workers, they go with significant others, they do not go with the expectation of seeing it plastered across the gossip columns the next day.” She took a breath, then added, “even if they go with Miranda Priestly and trust me, she hates the gutter press more than I do.”

“And which is she?”

“What?”

“Miranda Priestly,” her mother asked, “is she a friend, a co-worker, or a significant other Andy?”

Andy’s mouth opened and then closed, and then opened again, “I…” she frowned, “You know who she is” she finally said.

“I know who she was,” her mother replied, “you couldn’t get away from her quickly enough in Paris.”

“Yes… well… I apologized for that.”

“You did? When?”

Andy sighed, “years ago,” she lied again. “Look mom, Miranda’s not… what I mean is…”

Mrs Sachs listened hard to the static on the other end of the line, “Oh Honey,” she finally said, “she hasn’t got you all tied up in knots again has she?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that last time, you didn’t seem to know if you were coming or going. She controlled every aspect of your life, you didn’t even see Issac until he was nearly six months and —”

“Mom, it’s not like that. I don’t work for her anymore. I have my own career, my own friends, we’re equal now…” she winced at how that sounded, “just trust me OK? Miranda is not ruling my life. As I said, we just went to see a movie.”

“Well OK Honey” she could hear the doubt in her mother’s voice, “if you say so.”

“I do. So how is my nephew anyhow?” she asked, changing the subject and only half listened to the response. She wasn’t at Miranda’s beck and call again. After all, she’d invited Miranda to the movie. She’d refused to dash to her office the minute she’d been summoned. She quashed down the thought that none of this would even be happening if Miranda hadn’t talked her into it in the first place, they were both doing this for Cassidy.

#~~~#

Cassidy, it turned out, did not seem appreciative of that fact.

When Andy walked into the dining room, the twins were already seated, and she wasn’t sure whether the reason she could have heard a pin drop, meant something had already been said, or that no-one knew how to start. Then she realized there was a server standing discreetly by the wall and knew the answer. “Sorry about that,” she said into the silence, “my mom wanted a word.”

“I’m sure she did,” Miranda replied, “shall we order?”

The silence was still deafening even after the server had left, and nothing of any consequence was said until they all had their dishes in front of them. When Andy took the plunge and said, “I take it you’ve both seen the photo.”

Caroline nodded.

“You could have told us!” Cassidy said.

“We did,” Andy said confused, “that’s why we called last night.”

“I don’t believe that was what Cassidy meant,” Miranda said.

“No, it’s not,” Cassidy agreed, targeting her mother, “you never allow anyone but us to get that close to you in public, not even your husbands. You and Andy are obviously a lot more than friends and like everything in your life, we had to find out from the papers!”

Andy was about to point out that Cassidy of all people, should know how a photograph could be twisted, when she remembered this one had actually played into their hands. “Wait a minute! Our relationship wouldn’t even be under scrutiny, if I hadn’t been photographed with you first Cassidy,” she pointed out. “Miranda and I have been out together plenty of times before, without so much as a whisper of gossip,” she lied through her teeth, a twinge of guilt gnawing at the back of her brain that she’d been doing a lot of that just lately. “Now that rag is trying to make it look like she stole me from you!”

Something twitched under her fingers. She looked down to find that it was Miranda’s hand, and while she wasn’t entirely sure how it had got there, she knew that it must have been her fault, “sorry” she said.

Ignoring her, Miranda turned her hand over and casually entwined Andy’s fingers with her own before they could escape, then said calmly to the twins, “We haven’t told you because we don’t know what this is ourselves yet. Is it so wrong to wish to find out, before we tell other people?”

In direct contrast to the hard angles and ice that she often thought of as being Miranda, the woman’s palm was soft and warm and caused pleasant tendrils of sensation to make their way up her arm. Andy knew she couldn’t pull away without making it very obvious, so using her free hand instead, she reached out, picked up her glass and took a gulp of wine. She didn’t usually drink at lunch, but she was sitting in a restaurant holding hands with Miranda Priestly; and if a moment as surreal as that didn’t call for some kind of alcoholic fortification, she didn’t know what did.

“But we’re not other people,” Cassidy whined, “we’re your daughters!”

Again the urge to protect Miranda came to the forefront of Andy’s mind, “this is not your mother’s fault” she said quietly, “it was me who didn’t want to tell you because I wasn’t sure how you would take it. You didn’t seem exactly thrilled knowing that we were even friends a week ago, and as I value the relationship I have with the two of you, I didn’t want it to change, until, as Miranda said, we’re sure what this is. So if you’re going to blame anyone, blame me.”

Cassidy opened her mouth again but Caroline got there first, “you both have a right to see whoever you like,” she said “and if you’re happy then we’re happy, it’s just come as a bit of a shock, that’s all.” She hit Cassidy in the arm, “right Cass?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Cassidy replied, glaring at their joined hands.

Miranda tried to pull her hand away, but Andy gripped her fingers harder and prevented her from doing so, “Cassidy stop it,” she said. “I know you’re having a hard time with stuff right now, but that’s no excuse to take it out on us. Being with your mother does make me happy, and I really hope that goes the same for her. But however this ends up between us, we both care about the two of you, and that will never change. And that’s the last thing I’m saying on the subject, because while I wish the two of you hadn’t found out this way, it’s not going to change the fact that we’re together. Or the fact that your mother could use your support; because we all know that the rest of the world is going to have an opinion on this, and let’s face it, she could do so much better than me.”

Then she deliberately squeezed Miranda’s hand before she let it go, picked up her cutlery and continued to eat. Ignoring all three Priestly women, who were now staring at her.

“Sorry,” Cassidy eventually mumbled, “I just… you could have just told us, you know! You could have told us ages ago! We spent years making sure the two of you never met, and now you tell us it wouldn’t have mattered, that you’ve been seeing each other all this time anyway.”

“I know Cassidy, I’m sorry. I should have told you but—”

“This isn’t entirely your fault Andréa,” Miranda said quietly, causing all three of them to look at her. “Don’t look so shocked, I do know when I am in the wrong. I imagine that none of you told me you were seeing each other because you imagined my reaction would be… less than positive. That I gave you cause to think that means part of the fault must therefore be mine… a small part, but a part, nevertheless. For that… I apologize,” this last she said looking directly at Andy, and the reporter realized that this wasn’t part of the act, she really was trying to apologize. That she was going a distinctly odd way about it was neither here or there, Miranda Priestly was actually apologizing for putting her in this position, and Andy fully expected the evening papers to be heralding the coming apocalypse, because clearly the end of the world was nigh.


	9. Chapter 9

“Yes Andréa?” Miranda asked in lieu of hello when she picked up her office phone, and when the reporter did not speak, added, “I assume there was a reason you called?”

Andy, who had not seen her pretend paramour since lunch with the twins almost a week before, wanted to ask if she needed a reason, could she not just call up to say hey? To find out how she was? To tell her that she’d been thinking about her. But Andy also knew that the normal niceties of human interaction did not apply with Miranda, as she had neither the time, nor the inclination, for conversational openers or small talk. “Of course,” she said, before curiosity got the better of her. “How did you know it was me?”

“Who else would be suicidal enough to call my private office line at 7 o’clock in the morning?”

“Well it might have been one of the twins?”

“Unless Cassidy is at the gym, neither of them will be awake for at least another hour, and in any case they would call my cell phone… as should you. Now as to the reason you are disturbing me?”

“Oh. OK. Well, it’s just…” Andy took a breath and then breathed it out slowly before saying, “um, when you finish work on, I don’t know, Tuesday say. That used to be your least busy day barring disasters, although I don’t know if it still is, and obviously if you have a thing in the evening then…” conscious of the fact that she was bordering on rambling, Andy stopped for a moment, then continued into the silence, “anyway, whatever time you finish at the office, how about you drop in at my apartment before going home. I know it’s a bit of a detour, but if it’s early enough we can have dinner, or you can just tell me about your day and then leave.”

“And I would do this because…?” Miranda asked distractedly, letting the babble wash over her as she looked disapprovingly at the layout on her desk.

“Well, I know Leslie advised you not to be seen with me because of that photo of us all coming out of Jean-Georges, but there’s only so long the press will keep frothing over a trip to the movies and lunch with the twins,” Andy replied, “or speculating that we’re avoiding each other in the hopes that it will all go away. So if we’re still trying to create the impression that we are together, we will actually need to meet… and if you come here then it’s not like we’re making a big public display of it, so when you get caught Leslie won’t wonder why you’re not taking her advice.”

“I see” Miranda replied when there was no longer talking on the other end of the line. She made a note to see Aaron Cutler at Golfer’s World and find out whether he had some undiagnosed problem with his eyesight, that made him think white text on a baby pink background, was a good color scheme on which to place an article about an up and coming female golfer. “Very well,” she finally replied, “I will see you on Tuesday.”

“Oh,” Andy said slightly shocked that she’d actually agreed, “OK, great, I’ll see you tonight then. Bye Miranda”.

Miranda did not reply. She listened to the dial tone in her ear. She looked at the note she had just written. She ran the conversation she had just had through a newly alert part of her brain. Then she clicked on her calendar, only to find that the day was indeed, Tuesday. It did not seem like almost a week since she had last seen Andréa. Then again, the movie and lunch had been almost constantly on her mind since they had happened, even if she had been trying to drown them out with work.

Miranda had realized when her companion had defended their actions to the twins, that Andréa had chosen the wrong profession. Clearly with the ability to fake sincerity as well as that, she should have been on the stage. Then she had wondered if she had ever actually made anyone happy. She doubted it. She thought again of the four times she had seen Andréa since this whole debacle had started, three had begun or ended in disaster, but that evening at the townhouse had not been wholly unendurable. Perhaps tonight, since it would again be just the two of them, would go some way towards even-ing up the score. She looked at her calendar again. She did not need to go to the private Armory showing. She would have to show her face at MOMA tomorrow anyway. Last year’s show really hadn’t been worth the effort, and she hadn’t bought anything since they’d stopped innovating and sold out to corporate America. “Emily,” she called without thinking, seeing no need to change something that had become a habit years ago.

“Yes Miranda?” her second assistant replied, coming into the office.

“Inform my driver that I will require him this evening at 7 o’clock sharp; then phone Paul Morris and tell him I will see him tomorrow at the party and not tonight at the showing. Call Aaron Cutler and fit him into my schedule before the board meeting this morning, tell Judith we’ll have to cut our breakfast meeting short if necessary, no… rearrange that for tomorrow and get me the production, advertising revenue and sales figures for the last 6 issues of Runway. Confirm the reservation at Guerlain for 1.30 and R.S.V.P. yes to Marc and no to Nancy. The minutes of the last board meeting were not on my desk when I arrived this morning—”

“I have them here Miranda,” the woman said, putting them on the desk, “you arrived before—”

“I have no interest in the reasons for your incompetence,” Miranda cut in before picking them up, “get Abe Klieman’s office on the phone and confirm our luncheon appointment on Thursday, then get my coffee… and do try not to go via the arctic this time, if I wanted it cold, I’d ask for it. That’s all.”

Andy meanwhile, put down her cell phone and looked out of her apartment window. The man leaning against the wall opposite, had at some point bought himself breakfast from the bakery. That aside, while she couldn’t be absolutely sure, Andy thought he’d been there all night. She looked again at the drawer where she had placed the envelope of photos Ryan had given her, how was she supposed to go and see this boy with someone tailing her 24/7? She sighed and put the question to the back of her mind, then pulled herself together, put on her coat, picked up her laptop case and keys and headed in to the paper.

#~~~#

At 7.20 that evening Andy opened her apartment door to a knock and stood stock still in the doorway, slightly shocked that it was Miranda Priestly standing the other side of it, “um, sorry,” she said eventually, “I wasn’t expecting you here so early.”

“Should I leave and come back at a more acceptable time?” Miranda asked, in a voice that told Andy exactly how she felt about that idea.

“No. No of course not, come in,” she said, moving aside to let the other woman in, then walking over to her bag and fishing out her cell phone. “I’ve not been back long myself. I thought I’d order steak and some sides from Smith & Wollensky, if you wanted to eat.” Andy said, holding up her cell and waiting for Miranda’s nod, “OK, sit down and give me a minute to phone this through, then I’ll put some coffee on.”

When she’d finished convincing them that despite the address, it really was for Miranda Priestly, she noticed that her guest had hung up both her own coat, and the one that Andy had dumped over the back of the couch when she had come in, and was sitting on the couch massaging her right temple. “So how come you’re here so early?” Andy asked knowing better than to mention it, as Miranda brought her hand back down, “I mean, not that it isn’t nice to see you, and I know you’ve not got to worry about the book anymore, but I thought you’d have even more work to do these days.”

“I do. However, far be it from me to ignore a summons from my…,” Miranda looked at her and floundered, and since Andy wasn’t exactly sure what to call herself either, she didn’t make any suggestions. Then Miranda carried on, “that is apparently why I have 3 ex-husbands after all. Is there anyone down there?” she asked standing and going to the window, looking down into the rain covered street below, “I didn’t see anyone lurking.”

“There’s been a photographer hanging around, so I would imagine he’s still there somewhere.”

“It rather defeats the object if he isn’t.”

“I guess, um, should I cancel the order? We could go out and eat. They aren’t Michelin starred, but there are some good restaurants around here.”

Miranda’s sigh was almost imperceptible as she turned, crossed the room and sat down again. She leaned back on the surprisingly comfortable couch and her eyes fluttered shut for a moment before she said quietly, “I would prefer not to be on display, however, if you feel we must—”

“No Miranda,” Andy cut in decisively, “it’s fine. Even if there’s nothing worth printing in the paper tomorrow, they’ll already know you’re here, which is going to keep them interested. Do you want coffee, or I have some wine? Oh, I forgot to ask, are you driving?”

“I came straight from the office. Roy has, I imagine, gone to get himself something to eat. He knows I’ll call when I want him.”

“So, would you like some wine? It’s not as good as the one we had the other night, but it’s drinkable.”

“A ringing endorsement if ever I heard one,” Miranda replied, “thank goodness you didn’t go into advertising. I will have a glass with dinner.”

Andy took the opportunity to surreptitiously examine the clearly tired woman sitting in her living room, and wondered if she was eating properly, something the twins had expressed concern about in the past. Well, she’d make sure she did tonight, she thought, and there was really nothing she could do beyond that, Miranda hated interference in her life, after all.

“Well, just sit back and relax while I set the table,” she said, opening a cupboard and reaching up to get some plates.

Miranda, feeling that she could quite easily doze if she didn’t move, stood up and gazed around the room, seeing it properly for the first time, since she had been in no mood to do so the last time she had been there. Walking to a bookcase, she perused the photos on the top. The first was clearly of Andréa’s parents. The next, she assumed was her sister’s family, Miranda fought to recall their names, Jill, Kyle and Isaac. The third, she had no idea, “is that a relative?” she asked, indicating a black and white photo.

Andy looked over, “Um, no,” she replied, “Its Mary Lou Werner, well Forbes after she married…”, she consciously shut her mouth so she couldn’t ramble on and waited for Miranda to speak. When Miranda turned towards her, a question in her eyes, the name obviously not registering, she continued, “she um, she won a Pulitzer for Breaking News Reporting in 1959, for her coverage of the school integration crisis in Virginia for the Washington Evening Star.”

Miranda turned and studied the photo again, “ah, I see” she said, “your heroine.”

Andy colored, though it had been said without malice, and was thankful that Miranda’s back was still turned, “yes” she said, “yes she is.”

Miranda nodded, “everyone should have them, it encourages us to do things with our lives. As I recall though, she wasn’t the first woman to win a Pulitzer for Journalism, or even that category of it, so why her?” she continued, turning back to look at her.

Even though she’d always assumed Miranda’s knowledge extended past fashion, had told her as much in fact, Andy was still surprised. Most people, if they even asked the original question, just nodded and moved on, and given the person she was talking to now, she wasn’t entirely sure how to answer, but Miranda’s eyebrow was up, and she knew that if she stalled much longer, lips would purse and the evening could well go down hill rapidly.

“In order to win that prize she had to file copy on a complicated year long story, under tight deadlines, with new information and court rulings coming in all the time, and most of it she dictated over the phone off the top of her head.” She said, “yet it was still polished, erudite and understandable.” Andy shrugged, “it’s what I aspire to,” she finished, not mentioning that the reporter had also always been regarded as a kind, pleasant and gracious woman, no matter what kind of pressure she was working under, as she knew Miranda would draw the obvious conclusion. “So tell me about work” Andy said when the following silence got too much for her.

Miranda did, and was in the middle of complaining about a blunder the Designed For Living art department had made, when she remembered what the twins had told her. That they had called Andréa to vent and it had gone on from there. She found that she really wouldn’t mind that as much as she thought she would. Her husbands had only ever been interested in their own work, so having someone listen, ask intelligent questions even, was a novel experience. As the food arrived and the meal wore on, she found herself asking more about Andréa’s own articles, and actually being interested in the responses. However, when they had finished eating and had had coffee, Andy stood up and said, “thank you Miranda, this was nice and I really hope we can do it again… but since you got here so early, I know you’ll still have a lot of work to do.” It was then that Miranda became conscious of two things simultaneously, that she did have a lot of work to do, and that she’d rather stay exactly where she was.

#~~~#

She was still conscious of that feeling the following morning when Leslie called. The pictures of her leaving the apartment had apparently not been worth publishing in print, but had shown up online; and Miranda had always disliked any sentence that began “as your publicist/ lawyer/doctor, since it was invariably followed by an opinion she did not wish to hear.

“Leslie,” she interrupted, “what exactly would happen do you think, if we confirmed that I was seeing Andréa?”

Her publicist stopped mid-sentence, “sorry?”

“Are you suddenly deaf? I asked what you thought would happen if I confirmed that I was romantically involved with a woman.”

“Well, um…”

“Yes?”

“Are you?” Miranda did not reply. “Ok then” Leslie finally continued, “well, congratulations.” Miranda rolled her eyes and waited somewhat impatiently for the woman to get her brain back in to gear, as even she was aware that the present moment was not an ideal time to fire her.

“I uh, I assume the twins already know?”

“Just because the gutter press have only recently seen us together does not mean that it is a new occurrence, you know how I value my privacy.”

“I see… well at least she seems to value it too, which is more than Stephen ever did. Ok, to work. So… the fashion industry has always had a high proportion of very influential gay men of course, and from that perspective it really shouldn’t raise any eyebrows. Although at least one of the more moronic rags is bound to mention the whole lesbian fashion sense being a contradiction in terms thing, even if it’s to say that you’re the exception. We obviously have no comment, in fact no comment is probably best on everything short term, at least until we see which way public opinion is going. We’ve also got to expect them to drag up every even remotely ambiguous observation you’ve made in the past, especially in print, in your editors letters for example. You might want to get someone to go through them for you, and Page Six will probably take the opportunity to interview your ex-husbands again, so you may want to give them a heads up. The wider problem will come from the fact that the business community as a whole is still deeply conservative. After all, you’re not the queen of fashion anymore Miranda, or at least not just the queen of fashion, you’re head of a publishing house that generated over a billion dollars of revenue last year, and you’ve already had negative press commentary on that because you’re a woman. I can see them pushing the whole ‘acting like a man/thinking she’s a man’ angle as far as they can; as well as Andy’s age, and the fact that she used to be your assistant. After all, men fooling around with their secretaries is commonplace, but a woman does it and suddenly she’s not only a pariah, but also abusing her power. Whatever the sex or willingness of the other party involved.”

“I see,” Miranda said, when the other woman finally paused for breath.

“I’ll need a few days to run all the possible angles and draft a statement for you to look at for the future,” Leslie continued.

“There’s no need,” Miranda replied calmly.

“Miranda, I really think that—”

“I asked what you thought would happen. You are correct however that no comment would be best, since I have no intention of ever making any such statement.”

“But—”

“Leslie, certain areas of the press will always have a negative opinion of me, whatever I do or do not do. As they would any woman in my position who refuses to defer to them, sleep with them or otherwise pander to their egos. My responsibility is to my employees, the board, and the shareholders of Elias-Clarke. None of whom have any material interest in what goes on in my private life beyond how it affects the price of the stock. Therefore, I do not intend to confirm or deny anything, I simple intend to carry on as I have always done, safe in the knowledge that I have you and Max to mitigate the worst of it.” Then she ended the call and focused on the financial reports in front of her. No matter what was happening in her private life, nothing would be allowed to interrupt her concentration at work.

A few moments later however she caught herself thinking again how enjoyable she had found the previous evening, and scowled at the current lack of caffeine on her desk. “Emily” she called, then added “coffee,” when the woman appeared in the doorway before finally succeeding in quashing any thought that was not strictly related to work.

#~~~#

The feeling intruded again however when she spoke to the twins on Wednesday evening, and Caroline reminded her of the piano recital she had that weekend. Since Andréa was apparently already going, her daughter intimated that she’d be most displeased if her mother had to work, and Miranda reassured her that she had no intention of going into the office that Saturday, barring an absolute meltdown in the markets in the next two days.

#~~~#

It also crept in at lunch on Thursday with two of her oldest acquaintances.

She had been introduced to Elizabeth and Abraham Klieman many years previously, when she’d first come to the city as the newly minted editor-in-chief of American Runway and was entering the New York social scene. Though Miranda would never have admitted it, the fact that she and Abe had come from similar backgrounds had helped her to trust him, both with her burgeoning social advancement and the little spare money she’d had at the time. He had risen through the ranks of his firm, just as she had turned the magazine around; and Abe, now a senior managing director at one of the city’s largest private investment firms, had been managing her own stock portfolio to great effect ever since.

She conversed with them both as usual, discussing an up coming benefit for one of the charitable boards Abe was on, and the latest exhibition Liz was organizing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Miranda had thought they had not noticed her distraction, when Liz had suddenly covered her hand with her own, leaned in and said, “I must meet her, I haven’t seen you look that happy in years,” and then they had both politely ignored the color that had come to her cheeks.

#~~~#

And she was still conscious of that feeling on Thursday evening as she called Andréa’s number, and when it was answered said “I will need you to keep tomorrow evening free.”

“Hello to you to Miranda,” Andy replied cheerfully, then when nothing else was forth coming she added “do you have a function to go to, or are you ord—” she stopped and then continued, “asking me out on another date?”

The silence stretched for a moment, then, “…the latter,” Miranda answered, her voice betraying no emotion, though she was grateful that no-one but Patricia was around to see the tell-tale spots of color she felt rise again.

“Well in that case, I will.” Andy grinned, then added “I thought you’d never ask!”

“I never thought I would either,” Miranda replied dryly.

Andy’s grin widened, “where are we going?”

“You’ll find out tomorrow,” Miranda replied, her thought not having extended that far yet.

“But is it formal, informal? I need to know what to wear Miranda.”

“I’ll send you something” Miranda replied, “just be back at your apartment by six.”

Andy’s eyebrows rose, that definitely meant formal, so this was it then, the official outing as it were, the confirmation of the other photos. Thank God, she didn’t have to figure out what to wear. “OK, do you want me to meet you somewhere?”

Miranda rolled her eyes, “is there a sudden fuel shortage in the city that has somehow failed to grab anyone else’s attention?”

“No, but I can’t imagine we’re going anywhere round here and it just seems silly to go out of your way for no reason.”

“No sillier than you wearing couture on the subway,” Miranda replied.

“Ok, then maybe I should just get changed at yours.”

“Andréa, if you were going on a date, a real date I mean, you would allow the person who invited you to pick you up, would you not?”

“Well, yes but…” she stopped, because the sudden fact that Miranda was actually going so far as to pretend to woo her came into her mind, and every other thought fled in the face of it.

“That is what I thought. Besides, it is your home photographers are lurking around, not mine. And before you ask,” Miranda continued, “yes I will be bringing Roy, since I don’t imagine either of us will want to walk far with the paparazzi hounding us.”

Andy felt strangely dejected at the more logical reason for Miranda to pick her up, “oh, so I’ll just wait here then,” she finally replied.

“What an excellent idea,” Miranda said, then ended the call.

#~~~#

This time she had chosen Nobu, and had deliberately seated herself so that her companion did not have to look at anything except her and the wall, a fact for which Andy was extremely grateful. What she was not so grateful for, was that nothing had seemed to go right at Elias-Clark that day. “You’re scowling Miranda,” she finally said, “no more talking about work. Let’s talk about the twins, that always puts a smile on your face.”

“I understand Caroline has invited you to her recital tomorrow,” Miranda replied.

“Yes, and I know she’s nervous because it’s her first one at Barnard. I’d like to go, but I don’t want this thing between us to take the spotlight away from her. What do you think we should do?”

“We will go together of course. Caroline is perfectly fine with that, in fact she’s expecting it,” Miranda replied, “I’ll pick you up on the way.”

Andy frowned, “My apartment is seriously unlikely to be on the way from wherever you are.”

“I believe we have had this discussion before,” Miranda sighed.

“I know but—”

“Very well, as the recital is in the afternoon, we could meet for lunch, go to the recital and then take the twins out to dinner, if they are amenable to it, of course.”

“Dinner is a good idea,” Andy replied frowning again, “At least Cassidy seemed happier when I spoke to her this morning.”

“I believe she has come round to the idea,” Miranda replied, “I think it was more resentment at the effort they had gone to, to keep us apart. Which at least means they believe it, for now.”

“Good. But I’ll have to meet you at the recital I’m afraid. I’ve got an interview arranged for tomorrow morning and I won’t have time to go back to my apartment and change, then meet you for lunch.”

“Why do you need to get changed, can you not do your interview in whatever you’re wearing to the recital?”

“I don’t know, will you sit next to me if I’m wearing jeans and a sweatshirt?”

“There is nothing wrong with jeans, Stella McCartney does some perfectly acceptable lines.”

“Miranda, turning up to interview someone at an emergency shelter program wearing designer clothing, would be extremely insensitive don’t you think?” Andy said, then added half under her breath, “not to mention the fact that my clothing budget is not unlimited.”

Miranda pursed her lips for a moment, then said magnanimously, “provided you do not choose that cerulean monstrosity, or the thing you were wearing when this mess started, I will be perfectly happy to sit with you in whatever you choose to wear.”

“Really?” Andy asked in a surprised tone, ignoring Miranda’s comments on her clothing.

“Andréa, I am well aware that Nigel managed to beat some sense of good taste into you when you were working at Runway. The outfit you wore to that dreadful movie, proves that. I am equally sure that you also have enough sense to use the principles he taught you, whatever budget you are working with… unless of course you would prefer me to send something over again?”

“No.” Andy said firmly, “thank you for the offer Miranda, and can I just say again how much I love this dress, but I don’t think either of us would be able to live with that for long. Not to mention the headlines when someone worked out you were using me as a live barbie doll.”

“Indeed.”

“OK then, so I’ll meet you outside the James Room at 2.15. That’ll give us time to get seated.” Miranda nodded and then surprised herself by asking how the latest article was coming along.

“Slowly,” Andy replied sighing, “mostly because there’s a depressingly large amount of material for one article on homelessness, so I have to find an angle, which isn’t being made easier by several religious organizations that are big in the field, suddenly refusing to talk to me.”

“Because of the photos of us?”

“Who knows,” Andy replied in a slightly defeated tone, “perhaps they still think being gay is a sin, or that I’m already going to hell, or perhaps they think I’m corrupting Cassidy,” she shrugged. “Like I said, I really do have a lot of research material already, and if people pull out of interviews, I’ll be able to get others.”

Miranda nodded, then realizing that Andréa was in severe danger of becoming maudlin, exerted herself to be charming, and the rest of the evening passed both quickly and pleasantly for the both of them.

In fact Andy couldn’t remember having such an enjoyable evening for a long time. She had almost forgotten it wasn’t a real date until Miranda said, “are you ready to leave? Because looking at the annoyed faces of the people who have come in recently, I imagine we will be running the gauntlet outside.” Andy swallowed, her face clearly telling Miranda what she thought of that prospect. “Do you wish us to leave separately?” Miranda queried quietly.

The reporter shook her head, “it wouldn’t make any difference now and we need to be seen together, I know that, it’s just… I’m not…” she stopped and took a deep breath. “When they’ve been around before like that, it’s always been you in the spotlight, I’ve always…” she couldn’t finish.

Miranda nodded, more to herself than anyone else, then caught her companion’s eye, “yes, I’ve noticed your tendency to stay back or put your hand up to hide your face,” she said. She removed her phone from her bag and when Roy answered said, “we’re ready to leave. How bad is it out there?” The reply clearly did not please her. “Get as close as you can, then text me” she finished, then looked at Andy and continued “we will wait until the car is outside.” Andy nodded, and Miranda caught the server’s eye and paid the bill.

When her phone beeped Miranda looked at it, then put it away and stood, accepting her coat and putting it on. She then took Andy’s from the server, careful to walk to the other side of the reporter before turning, so that she was facing the wall and hiding her companion from the rest of the room before she said quietly, “ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,”Andy replied, took a deep breath, clutched the edge of the table and stood. Miranda held out her coat and she slipped it on, feeling hands lightly squeeze her shoulders in support before dropping away, and then Andy turned towards her.

Miranda leaned in closer so that she could say directly into her ear, “remember Andréa, that this is merely a blip on an otherwise pleasant evening. We will walk passed them and go home and they will be forgotten about. In the meantime, since you are without doubt the most beautiful woman they will see tonight; you are going to hold your head up, smile, and make all of them, and everyone who sees the photos tomorrow, jealous of the fact that I am the one who is getting to take you home.”

If she hadn’t been so caught up in psyching herself up to do this, Andy’s mouth would have dropped open at that statement, but while her mind acknowledged that it was in fact she, who was going home with the most beautiful woman in the room, her eyes caught and held Miranda’s, taking strength from the fierce determination she saw there. She nodded and Miranda took a step away from her, before holding out her hand and entwining their fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world. Andy looked down at where they were joined and felt protected, then she felt a slight tug forward. She lifted her head, unable to stop herself from grinning a little at Miranda’s impatience to get this over with, before nodding her head again, fixing her smile and trying to keep up with the quick pace that her companion had set.

By the time they had actually reached the car, Andy was convinced she’d suffered permanent damage to her eyes. How did people cope with this all the time? Or actually hear any of the questions that were hurled at them, since they were being screeched at from all sides. “To the townhouse Roy,” Miranda directed, and seeing Andy’s puzzled look, continued, “I noticed several of them getting into cars which will presumably follow us. If you go home they will have less compunction about disturbing you and your neighbors than they will me and mine.” She paused, color forming on her cheeks as she continued in a more unsure tone, “the conclusion everyone will reach however, is obvious. So if you do wish to go—”

“No Miranda,” Andy cut in, “the townhouse is fine.”


	10. Chapter 10

Coming out of her interview and on to the street the following day, Andy noted two men carrying seriously professional looking cameras, who stopped lounging against the wall of the building opposite and started walking towards her. It was a decidedly new and unwelcome step up from the guy with a point and shoot, and if the door hadn’t already shut behind her, she’d have seriously thought of disappearing back into the building and calling a cab.

“So Andy, you got any battle scars? Is the dragon all fire and claws in the sack?” one of them asked conversationally, a minute or so after falling in step to the left of her, when it was clear that she was doing her best to ignore them. Andy gritted her teeth. Apart from knowing better than to respond in any fashion, she really did not need to think about what Miranda was like in bed.

“Nah, can’t have,” his partner added, joining in from the other side of her, “according to her ex-husbands she’s a frigid bitch.”

Her fists clenched in her pockets, her shoulders tightened, and the urge she always had to defend Miranda had her jaw locking harder, in an effort not to say anything stupid.

“True, but she seems the sort of woman who just likes to be on top.”

Andy wondered how the hell they’d found her. She’d managed to slip out through the back of Miranda’s house that morning without a problem, and she’d not seen them on her subway trip over to the shelter. She tried to keep all expression from her face as she kept on walking.

“C’mon Andy, she like to be in charge? Boss you around again? Give us something and we’ll get out of your hair!”

Yeah, like she believed that. She kept on walking.

A few minutes more of ignoring them trying to goad her into saying something she shouldn’t, and they clearly gave up. One turned, lifted his camera and started taking pictures of her, the other ran a little way in front of her and started doing the same, the combined flashes irritating her eyes. When she reached the further one, he remained standing in her way, so she side-stepped him, carried on walking and spying a Starbucks on the corner, felt a sudden need for caffeine.

She’d been waiting in line for perhaps 30 seconds or so when there was a tap on her shoulder, she turned, “excuse me,” the woman behind her said, “are you famous?”

Andy snorted, “no, sorry” she replied.

“But…” the woman pointed at the men waiting for her outside.

“Oh them,” Andy said and rolled her eyes, “I work with them, and as usual they’re taking their pranks way too far.”

She turned back and shuffled forward, ignoring everyone else until it was time to order her coffee. She waited again, then picked the cup up so that the logo was visible from the front. She walked outside and they started following her again. Andy made sure that when she wasn’t actually drinking, the cup stayed close to her face, hoping that would make anything they took harder to sell. Keeping her face neutral as she continued to ignore their attempts to get her to say something, anything, about Miranda. Reaching the subway, she walked down the steps, passed right by the nearest transit cop, swiped her metro card and was relieved when they didn’t follow her through the turnstile.

Fortunately the train was not too crowded and while there was nowhere to sit, at least she didn’t have to stand pushed up against strangers. She thought back to the peaceful way she had started the day in one of Miranda’s numerous guest rooms, the light playing against her eyelids as she woke smiling, and didn’t it just suck that life couldn’t stay that way.

Then she thought of Sara and her 4 year old son Stevie, who she’d just left in a cramped room at the emergency shelter after an interview that had run way too long, and knew things could be a whole lot worse.

#~~~#

As she walked back above ground she turned on her cell phone for the first time that day and sighed at the amount of voicemails and texts she had waiting for her. Scrolling through she ignored all but the most recent, “hey, I’m on my way,” she said when her call was picked up, “shouldn’t you be getting ready, or pacing nervously or something?”

“Plenty of time for that,” Caroline replied as calmly as she always did, “Mum’s already here and she’s looking annoyed, where are you?”

Andy looked at her watch, it was five after, damn Miranda and her always being early. “I’ve just got out of the subway, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Good, because I need a favor.”

“OK,” Andy replied cautiously and listened to Caroline as she walked towards Barnard Hall. Ending the call just after she had walked through the gate, she caught a momentary flash to her right and flinched automatically. She turned and let out a breath when she realized it was just sunlight glinting off of one of the windows. When she went to put her cell away however, she noticed her hands were shaking, and knew she’d have to collect herself before she faced Miranda.

Finding an empty bathroom on the second floor she leaned against the sink, trying to steady herself. Damning all paparazzi to hell, she sighed and wondered, not for the first time, what exactly she’d signed up for.

Shutting her eyes, she breathed deeply and tried to relax. She thought of Miranda the previous evening and how she’d called her the most the most beautiful woman they’d see that night. She still disputed the point, but even as she wished Miranda meant it, the tension in her neck, back and shoulders eased. She thought back to her awareness of Miranda’s gallantry; to the protected way she’d made her feel; to the easy conversation and the cocoa they’d had, still dressed in their finery. Although she’d declined the slug of single malt that was older than she was, that Miranda had added to hers. She grinned as she realized only now, that Miranda had answered one of the questions she’d put to her that first night at the townhouse, without ever drawing attention to the fact. Had indeed shown her more sides of herself in the last three weeks, than Andy had known in all the time she’d worked for her.

She took another breath and straightened up, she could do this. She was dating Miranda Priestly, and if the rest of the world wasn’t jealous of her, couldn’t see past the attitude that the woman projected, they all had serious flaws in their eyesight. She correct her thought to pretending to date as her hand reached for the door, although the way Miranda sometimes acted, that might just be the hardest thing to remember.

Pulling open the door she steeled herself, and made her way up to the forth floor with her head held high.

When Miranda finally saw her, her mouth tightened, and Andy mentally prepared herself for a cutting remark, but Miranda merely watched her walking towards her, and when she reached her, held out her hand.

Andy took it without comment. Grateful for the strength that again seemed to flow up her arm at it’s warmth, as they made their way to their seats at the front of the room, ignoring the whispering and the stares that seemed to follow them. Miranda let go as she picked up the program on the seat and sat down. “Where’s Cassidy?” Andy asked quietly as she sat next to her.

“Sitting with a friend from her English class, I believe,” Miranda replied, “she’ll find us afterwards. I suggested dinner and the girls were agreeable, provided they get to choose the venue.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Since they have both acquired a taste for good food, where ever we go will be sanitary and more than edible, even if the decor and general ambiance are not to my taste,” Miranda replied. “As you said, it is best that we are seen with them, although the fact that Cassidy was not on Page Six this morning was a pleasant change.”

“I haven’t seen the photos yet, were they OK?”

“I imagine they will fool anyone who doesn’t know us…” Miranda replied, then added, “anyone who does will probably think we’ve both lost our minds. How did your interview go?”

“Good I think, although a hell of a lot more needs to be done to help, it’s ridiculous that—”

“No-one commented on your clothing choices?” Miranda cut in.

Andy rolled her eyes, “no Miranda. No-one commented on the fact that these pants run to a four figure price tag, and you still haven’t told me how you just happened to have clothing in my size.”

“I still get sent samples, Miranda replied, waving it off, “I have clothing in everyone’s size, and as I tried to tell you this morning, good clothing is understated. It does not need to scream it’s price tag, therefore contrary to your expectations, you looked good and no-one thought beyond that.”

“I thought beyond that,” Andy said, “do you know how many people could get a square meal, for the price of the clothing I’m currently wearing?”

“Do you know how many people would not get a square meal if the fashion industry didn’t exist?” Miranda retorted in a low voice, “the economic benefit to this city from Fashion Week alone, surpasses that from the Marathon, the U.S. Open, or even the Super Bowl when it’s here. Not to mention the fact that citywide the industry pays nearly $11 billion in wages and generates almost $2 billion in tax revenue each year.”

Andy knew that as a journalist she ought to have a come back for that, but it was with relief that she noticed someone stepping out in front of them who was clearly about to speak.

#~~~#

“Caroline was great,” Andy said in her ear when everyone had finished and the clapping was dying down, “the best I’ve heard her perform.” Miranda agreed, although she did wonder how many times Andréa had been there for her daughters, when she had been unable to get away from work. “Can I take a look at that?” Andy asked, indicating the program, and Miranda handed it to her. She opened it, studied it for a few moments and was just closing it again when Miranda nudged her. She looked up to see Caroline coming towards them, with a woman who was obviously a member of the faculty. They rose together and Miranda put a hand delicately round her arm.

“Mum, this is Professor Archer, the music faculty director,” Caroline said as they reached them. “Professor Archer, this is my mother Miranda Priestly and her girlfriend Andy Sachs,” then she went to stand on the other side of Andy.

“Ms Priestly, Ms Sachs, it’s a pleasure to meet you both,” the Professor said into what appeared to be the sudden silence of the room.

“Please call me Andy,” Andy replied, her voice sounding a little strained to her own ears. She would have held out a hand to shake, but for the fact that her left still held the program, and the fingers now curled around her right bicep were currently cutting off all circulation to her lower arm.

The Professor smiled, then turned towards Miranda, “Ms Priestly, you have a very talented daughter,” she said.

Miranda smiled back, and Andy wondered if the rigor mortis that had so clearly set into her hand had also affected her jaw, since it seemed to take a moment for her to prise it open and say “thank you, I think so.”

“I understand from Caroline that it was you who encouraged her to play the piano?”

“Since I felt it was a skill she might enjoy having, I merely allowed her the opportunity to learn, and then listened to her progress,” Miranda replied. “All children should be allowed the opportunity to pursue their talents, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” the professor replied, “all though when I said, encouraged, I did mean literally. So many parents want their children to excel, yet shut them away in a room and tell them to practice, then drag them out to play when they wish to show them off. Caroline tells me you always listened to every practice that you were home for, even at the beginning, which is often a difficult time for parents.”

“Any skill worth acquiring takes time,” Miranda replied, “and there will always be rough patches, but supporting ones children, no matter what, is surely a priority for any parent.”

The professor agreed and went on to talk about Caroline’s progress with the Chopin Nocturnes as Andy listened for a few moments longer, and then surreptitiously turned her head and mouthed quietly to Caroline, “I don’t think your mother wants you calling me her girlfriend.”

Caroline frowned back at her, “well what should we call you then?” she whispered, eyeing her mother who was listening attentively to her professor. Then added, “not mom.”

“No!”Andy tried to restrain her head from jerking in shock and managed to tone it down to a slight twitch, “but maybe—” she stopped as the pain in her arm increased where Miranda was still gripping it like a vise, and turned back to the original conversation, trying to look attentive. Miranda’s grip eased off again as both she and the professor turned to look at her. “Professor Archer was just saying that she thinks that Caroline would benefit greatly from a trip a colleague is organizing, to the Montreal International Jazz Festival this summer darling,” Miranda said.

“Oh, um, really? Well that’s nice dear.” Andy winced, both from the increased pain that suddenly shot through her arm again, and total mortification at the fact that she’d sounded just like her father. She tried to gather her wits as Caroline kicked her foot and continued “I mean, I think it’s a great idea. It is the biggest jazz festival in the world after all, and isn’t Oliver Jones playing his own work this year?”

“I’m impressed, he’s not that well known outside of Jazz circles,” the professor said smiling at her, “you must be a fan.”

“Well, in my own way,” Andy replied, “I certainly enjoy hearing Caroline play him whenever I get the chance, and I know she’s a great fan of his work, she did play Blues for Hélène as her last piece today after all.” Miranda looked sharply at her daughter and Caroline groaned softly against Andy’s arm.

They carried on talking for a few more minutes, before another parent claimed the professor’s attention, and as they were left on their own Miranda said quietly, “We do not get other people to do our dirty work Caroline. If you wish to go, just ask… and do not involve Andréa in your schemes again, subtlety has never been her strong suit.”

Andy looked momentarily outraged, and was about to dispute that fact when Miranda finally let go of her arm, and then she was more concerned with resisting the temptation to windmill it, in order to restart her circulation. Instead she merely shook it discreetly at her side, though even this was enough to earn a momentary scowl from her companion.

Fortunately Cassidy came back and said happily, “great work Ro. Now can we go eat, I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Caroline replied, and rolled her eyes as Cassidy stuck out her tongue.

“Girls,” Miranda said and they both looked at her.

“Sorry mum,” they said in unison, though neither looked contrite and Andy bit her lip as Miranda sighed.

“Take my advice and never have children,” she said.

Andy took a step forward, turned, and slipped an arm over the shoulders of each twin, grateful that her right one still appeared to function, “oh come on Miranda, I think you’ve done a great job!… Also, I skipped lunch, so I know it’s early, but I’m with Cassidy on this,” she grinned.

Miranda took in the three people standing in front of her and fought not to smile at the picture they presented, then she fought not to roll her own eyes as the twins put on their most hopeful faces, that often reminded her of Patricia as a puppy, which was presumably where they had copied it from.

“Very well,” she relented, “and to what culinary delights am I to be subjected today?”

The twins looked at each other and grinned, “Ethiopian,” they said in unison.

“Only if you wish to be embarrassed by my demanding cutlery this time,” Miranda replied.

Cassidy mumbled something under her breath and then looked at her watch and said, “fine, how about Marea?”

“Acceptable,” Miranda nodded, taking care that her lips did not twitch into a small smile until only Andréa was left standing in front of her. The reporter grinned back, then chanced her other arm and hooked it out at her companion, an eyebrow rose on the face in front of her, but this time Miranda accepted the challenge.

Ignoring the fact that other people seemed to part in front of them like waves on the Red Sea, they walked outside and Andy left Miranda with the twins, as she went out on to the sidewalk to hail a cab. “So how’d you like your new stepmom?” said a voice she recognized, and her head snapped back towards the gate. The two paps who had been following her before were baiting the twins, who in turn had closed ranks in front of their mother.

“A whole lot better than our stepfathers, thanks!” Cassidy snapped defensively as a cab pulled up, and Andy opened the nearest door before walking round and getting in the front. The twins sat either side of their mother, making sure both doors were firmly shut before they told the driver their destination.

“Sorry mum,” Cassidy said quietly when they were seated in the restaurant, “I know you told us never to talk to them, but—”

Miranda put a hand over her daughter’s, “I appreciate your defending Andréa.”

“So do I,” Andy said, “those two creeps have been following me around all morning.” Miranda looked at the woman seated to her left but refrained from saying anything. Andréa took her hand though, and for a heart-stopping moment Miranda thought she was going to kiss it. “Hey, no frowning” she said instead, “it’s only to be expected, remember your motto.”

“Her motto?” Caroline asked confused.

Andy grinned, turning towards her, “yeah, dirt diggers like them are obviously going to follow me around, because as your mother once told me, everybody wants to be us.”

The twins grinned and high-fived each other, repeating the phrase, and then Caroline looked at Andy again before all too casually linking her fingers with those the reporter had on the table. “So,” she said smirking, “they had a point, when are you going to make an honest woman of our mother?”

Andy could feel the heat in her face, and the shock that ran through the hand she had just realized was still clasped in hers, “I, uh…”

“Caroline!” Miranda choked, and Andy was pleased the imp hadn’t waited until either of them had taken a drink before entertaining herself.

“No, it’s ok,” Andy said, “we’re um, we’re not at that point yet, but you two will definitely be the first to know.” Andy turned and smiled at her reassuringly, the twins grinned at her, and recovering from the shock of her daughter’s question, Miranda let the unexpected joy of a meal with her family wash over her for a second, before she remembered again that it wasn’t real.

#~~~#

Andy was still smiling when she got back to her apartment. She climbed the stairs to find Doug leaning against the wall, watching Lily who was pacing, “about time!” she said.

Andy frowned, “Um, sorry. Did we arrange something? Because I don’t remem—”

“No,” Lily cut in, “this is an intervention before you have a complete breakdown. Because why the hell else would you be swanning around town with the Wicked Witch of the West!”

“Don’t call her that!”

“Don’t call her that? You called her that! In fact as I recall, after she ruined the best relationship you ever had, after you quit your job when you were half way around the world and used most of your savings to get back home, you not only called her that, but also vowed never to speak to her again!”

“Yeah, well… that was years ago, and things change… besides most of what I said back then was a heat of the moment kind of thing, because of something that had absolutely nothing to do with my relationship with Nate… and don’t forget that despite the fact that I left her on the most important week of the year, she was still big enough to give me a reference for the job of my dreams.”

“The job of your dreams?” Doug asked skeptically.

“Well the first rung of it anyway,” she grinned at him, then turned back to Lily, “and she didn’t have to do that, she could have blackballed me from every journalism job in the tristate area without a second thought.”

“Oh yeah, because she’s all heart. You dumped her at a fashion show Andy, it was not the Cuban Missile Crisis.”

Andy opened her mouth to dispute that when Doug said, “um guys, I think we should take this inside” and nodded down the hallway.

Andy followed his gaze, “Hi Mrs Kowalski,” she said, lifting a hand at her neighbor before moving to open her door. Then she turned to Lily, “are you planning on continuing this? Because I’ve mostly had a good day. The good part, I should add, was spent with Miranda, who, whether you like it or not, is currently a big part of my life and I really don’t want to spend the evening arguing with my friends about that.”

“Fine,” Lily said grumpily, “but I don’t need to hear about how wonderful she is either.”

Andy laughed, “I’ve seen and thought about Miranda a lot lately, but I can honestly say that that particular adjective has not once crossed my mind.”

She pushed open the door and Lily walked through it as Doug caught Andy’s arm and whispered, “Nate called her this morning, she’s been like this ever since.”

“Great” Andy sighed, “that’s all I need.”

#~~~#

It was only to be expected however, that Lily would not be able to keep off the subject of Miranda Priestly for long, and after one too many heated exchanges; this time involving accusations that things had been going on with her ex-boss while Andy was still going out with Nate, she departed with Doug in tow, who promised to smooth things over. As Andy tried to take her mind off her disintegrating relationships with her friends, she remembered all the ignored messages on her cell. Acknowledging the fact that she’d rather stay in her current mood, than descend further into the depths of what her family thought, she cast around for something else to do. Five minutes later she looked out of the window and wondered if she should start asking the bakery for royalties, as she watched yet another photographer walk out, bagel in hand. She sighed, picked up her cell and dialed. “Hey, you know I was practically an honorary Priestly earlier…” she said as Caroline answered the call, “well can I come over and use your laundry room in the morning? I really don’t need pictures of me washing my underwear turning up in newspapers.”

“Sure,” Caroline replied, “but why aren’t you asking Mum?”

“She’ll have a lot of work to do and I don’t want to disturb her,” Andy replied, knowing it would be true. Besides, she had the feeling that a day spent away from Miranda might be good for her sanity, since she was beginning to realize that she was enjoying her company far too much.

#~~~#

“So you had an eventful weekend,” Vince said as he sat down next to her on Monday morning.

“Ugh don’t,” Andy replied frowning. There was hardly anyone in at this time of the morning, which was why she liked it, and Vince never got in before 10, so something serious must have happened to have dragged him in hours early. “You know, for the first time ever I’m starting to hate my profession,” she said. “Or certain elements in it at least. I mean, with the crime rate in this city, I’m starting to think we should hire paps instead of cops, because they sure seem a hell of a lot more efficient at tracking people down.”

“Well they could always stick ‘em on leashes and use them as sniffer dogs,” Vince said.

Andy laughed at the image, “thanks,” she grinned, “I needed that!”

“Hey, the Rangers look like they’re heading to the playoffs, so I can afford to be generous,” he replied. Then before she could say anything else, he took a quick look around the room and continued in a voice barely above a whisper, “Ok, so you are really not going to like this, but I swear I didn’t know about it until last night, and honestly, I still wish I could unknow it, but I figured I should tell you anyway,” leaving Andy even more confused than she had been before.

“Okaaay” she replied in an equally low voice, “what’s going on?”

He sighed, then said, “open google and type in Mirandy, M, I, R—”

He stopped as Andy hissed, “are you serious?”

“Trust me, I wish I wasn’t!” he replied, then left and Andy turned back to her screen and started to type, looking nervously over her shoulder before she pressed enter. Vince was now talking to Karen, currently the only other person in the room, and conveniently standing in her sightline to Andy’s desk, she made a mental note to go out and get him pastries later and pressed enter. She flinched at the number of links and then noticed that the top few all went to the same website. Clicking on one, she rolled her eyes at the photo of Miranda getting out of the town car at Elias Clark that appeared, and clicked on the home page. She was surprised to find that it was actually a website dedicated to fashion, past and present. It had been running since 1996 and the owner clearly had a thing for ‘The Goddess of Style’, aka Miranda Priestly. She clicked on the lurid pink button that said “Mirandy Watch” on the top navigation bar, and was assailed with a long minute by minute feed of where she and Miranda had been for nearly all of the last two weeks. This mainly consisted of lots of pictures of Miranda getting out of, or in to, the town car, and of her running all over the city, doing her job. There were the obvious pap photo’s, but most of the images looked like they’d been taken on smart phones, and there was a small caption under each one, place, date, time and what she assumed was the name of the photographer, or at least what they went by when they were totally invading other people’s privacy. No wonder people didn’t want to talk to her.

Taking a deep breath, she scrolled all the way to the bottom of the page. Fortunately it didn’t start until after the movie so her meetings with Ryan seemed to have gone unnoticed. She stared at the picture taken outside the movie theater for a moment, before reading the text underneath, “Is La Priestly family?”

After looking at Miranda again for longer than was necessary, she blinked, as the thought crossed her mind that Miranda was going to kill her. Her next, was that it had all been Miranda’s idea to start with, although she doubted that pointing that out would help. Her last was that Miranda must never know.

“Sachs,” she was pulled out of her thoughts by her boss yelling from across the room, her finger twitched on the mouse and the page was gone. She turned to look at him, “my office, now” he finished and disappeared back inside. Andy, wondering what was coming, locked her laptop, got up and walked towards the open door. Conscious of the fact that Vince and Karen were now watching, she shut it behind her.

“Sit down,” Greg said in a quieter tone, and she did so. “So,” he continued, “Grace Lyons just went into active labor.”

“She did? That’s great! Chris has been on edge for days now wondering when it was going to happen.”

“It is great, but since he’s now officially on paternity leave, I’m going to need you to get up to speed on the Occupy Wall Street trials.”

“Me? But I’m not a legal reporter.”

“I know, but you did cover cases when you were at Northwestern, so you’re the closest thing we’ve got right now.” Andy looked at him, “quit pursing your lips Sachs, jeez you’re even starting to act like her.”

Andy’s eyes widened, “that’s what this is about?”

“No, it’s about the fact that I’m down a reporter… that you’ll be somewhere that has an enforced ban on cameras, is merely a bonus right now.”

“But what about my feature on—”

“It’ll still be there when Chris comes back. It’s only for a couple of weeks, and trust me, if the powers that be see many more photos of you all over the competition, then you’re not going to need to worry about it at all. So do us both a favor, and take the assignment at face value.” He sighed, then added, “you’re good at your job Andy and I don’t want to lose you, but this has come from over my head.”


End file.
